Rutilius and Lucius: Or Stories of the Third Age

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RUTILIUS AND LUCIUS;

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Stoma of ftp 3$tr9 &g*.

ROBERT ISAAC WILBERFORCE, M.A.

abcedbaqon or tbi bast siding, oanon or to re, ice.

LONDON: : fr;^; ;
JAMES BURNS, 17 PORTMAN STREET,

PORTMAN SQUARE*
1842.

And thou, fayrest princesse under sky,
In this fayre mirror maist behold thy face,
And thine owne realmes in lond of fasry,
And in this antique ymage thy great auncestry.

The which, O pardon me thus to enfold
In covert vele and wrap in shadowes light,
That feeble eyes your glory may behold.
Which ells could not endure those beames bright,
But would be dazzled with exceeding light.

:*•: .- ••m. *

CONTENTS.

Utttilttt**

CHAPTER I. page

The Discovery 3

I

i CHAPTER II.

The Battle . . . .... 15

CHAPTER III.
The Expedition 23

CHAPTER IV.
The Captive 36

CHAPTER V.
The Pursuit 41

CHAPTER VI.
ThePlatonist 52

CHAPTER VII,
The Christian Philosopher . . .73

Vlll CONTENTS.

CHAPTER VIII.

PAGE

Dialogue with Pamphilus. The Christian Deputy of Tyre 85

CHAPTER IX.

A Roman Villa. The Deputy of the Emperor. The

Midnight Assemblage 100

CHAPTER X.

Visit to Pamphilus. The due Use of Antiquity. The

Jewish Convert 182

CHAPTER XI.

A Christian Church. The Discipline of Secrecy. As-
ceticism 152

CHAPTER XII.

Story of Rutilius's Brother. The Principle of Interpret-
ing the Scriptures , 175

CHAPTER XIII.
A Vbit to Jerusalem 185

CHAPTER XIV.

Prophecies respecting the Jews. Their Nation to be really
looked for among the Converts to Christianity . 201

CHAPTER XV.

The Meeting with Mneellus. The Discovery. The Con-
fession 206

CONTENTS. ix

IttCttt**

CHAPTER I.

PAGE

The Arrival 215

CHAPTER II.
The Palace 226

CHAPTER III.
The Encounter 240

CHAPTER IV.
The Conflagration 254

CHAPTER V.
The Flight 271

RUTIIIUS.

The time occupied by this story h from a.d. 297 to a.o. 898.
The scene opens In the mountains of Armenia.

CHAPTER I.

That, under heavy arms, the youth of Rome
Their long laborious marches overcome,
Cheerly their tedious travels undergo,
And pitch their sudden camp before the foe.

Dryden's Firgik

The day had been dark and stormy, and the lofty
heights above the camp, which looked southward
towards the plain of the Tigris, were still covered
frith clouds ; but towards evening it promised bet-
ter weather, and a party of Roman soldiers left their
tents, either to enjoy the air, or perhaps to satisfy
their curiosity respecting the position of the enemy.
The leading figure among them was a man of middle
height, whose step and manner bespoke long prac-
tice in the use of arms. He had not adopted any
of those new customs which had crept into the Roman
service even before the reign of the ruling emperor
Dioclesian: his pilum, or spear, was of the ancient
weight and solidity, and might have done its part at
Zama or Pharsalia ; his shield was thick and long ;
his cuirass and short cloak displayed thighs and legs
muscular, as well as happily proportioned ; and his
face had that honest, hardy confidence which spoke

4 RUTILIUS.

of past perils overcome, and of a mind ready to en-
counter the future. The veteran contrasted well with
a youth who stood next to him. A handsome coun-
tenance, clustering hair escaping from under his
helmet, armour of a lighter and more ornamental
texture, — all looked as if he had been more accus-
tomed to join the people of Antioch in their festive
processions to the groves of Daphne, than to fight,
like his companion, against the Germans on the
Rhine, or the fierce Goths beyond the Danube. But
though the capital of Syria was really his birth-place,
yet his manly and intelligent countenance shewed no
signs of that effeminacy which was but too usual
among its citizens ; while, on the other hand, the
veteran, whom he watched with an easy and affec-
tionate respect, had none of the ferocity of the wild
Thracians with whom he had associated. In the
group which surrounded Rutilius and his uncle Mar-
cellus, for such was their relationship, might be seen
specimens of those varying nations which swelled
the armies of Rome. There was the swarthy Afri-
can, of Punic descent, whose language, though pro-
fessedly Latin, was mixed with words and idioms
which betrayed his Phoenician origin. Next to him
came a Celt, whose forefathers had fought under
Charactacus. Beside him might be seen a soldier ,
from the neighbourhood of Nismes, whose family had
formerly lived in Galatia (or Gallia Graeca), but had
returned to their original country since the widely
spreading Roman empire had reunited these two

CH. I. THB DISCOVERY. 5

distant branches of the Gallic race. With these were
mixed one or two natives of Armenia, who seemed
to be pointing out the singular order and discipline
of the Roman camp to a stranger, whose high cheek-
bones and Tartarian cap, together with a wild and
uncouth manner, a bow and arrows of strange
make, and a dress singularly ornamented with silk,
bespoke him the inhabitant of a country still more
eastward.

After looking for a few moments upon a region
well wooded and fertile, but apparently not thickly
inhabited, over which the Roman encampment, occu-
pying the slope of a mountainous declivity, commanded
an extensive prospect, Marcellus addressed himself
to one of the Armenians who was standing behind
him. He had served before in that part of the
world, and spoke the Armenian language with a
readiness which surprised his colleagues.

" So you think the Persian army lies concealed
among those woods V

" So say our scouts," replied the Armenian,
whose name was Viriathes ; " and our friend here,
who has intelligence among them, thinks it pro-
bable."

" We shall soon see, then, whether we are to
fare better than in our last campaign, and whether
the empire of the world is to belong to Cyrus or
Caesar."

" Our hopes go with you," said the Armenian :
" our nation has suffered enough from those pagan
b 2

6

RUTILIUS.

marauders. We hope to see the eagle of Rome and
the cross of Christ victorious together."

The veteran surveyed him for a moment with a
serious, and almost gloomy look. " Yes, you had
told me that you also were a Christian : I would I
too could expect that the success of our emperor
would further the cause of the cross !'*

" At all events," said Viriathes, " it is from the
West that our nation must look for further knowledge
of the Christian doctrines. Thence come our mis-
sionaries : from Antioch and Caesarea they obtain
the ordination which enables them to minister bap-
tism and the awful communion ; and from the same
quarter come the holy prayers which they are now
rendering into our native language."

" All this is true," replied the Roman ; " but
storms may arise from the same quarter which gives
sunshine."

" And why should you expect it ?"

" From what I see of our Caesar Galerius. I
have known him long; for I served in Germany
under Maximian when he was first raised to his
office. He is not, Viriathes, like your king Tiridates,
the offspring of an ancient line : both he and Maxi-
mian were children of Thracian peasants ; and he was
himself but a herdsman when he entered our ranks*
His mother, the slave of idolatrous superstition, has
infected her son's mind with a hatred against what-
ever is Christian ; and when any success shall give
him opportunity, I fear that he will renew the perse-

CH. I. THE DISCOVERT. 7

cutions which in former times were directed against
us."

" But has not Dioclesian been always distin-
guished for wisdom, as well as kindness ?"

" He has ; and I cannot believe that he would
willingly disturb the peace of the empire, or stain his
hands with innocent blood. And yet, even from him
we have our fears. Have you heard the violent
anger which he lately expressed at the interruption
of his idolatrous sacrifices?"

His companion replied in the negative.

" You know the custom of our ancestors to judge
of the probable success of their enterprises by the
entrails of the animals which they kill in sacrifice ?"

" This," said the Armenian, " is but one of the
means by which the worshippers of false gods pro-
fess to determine the future, — expecting to learn
what passes humanity from the brute creatures who
fall below it."

" There is more in the thing than you seem to
allow," answered the Roman : " our fathers did not
look to the brutes for instruction, but supposed them
to be instruments in the hands of beings who are
more powerful than mankind."

" What beings ?" said his companion.

" Our apostle teaches us that the sacrifices of
our fathers were offered to evil spirits ; and when I
look at the signal success which attended their arms,
I think it likely that God may have allowed them to
receive both help and guidance from such sources.

8 RUTILIUB.

At all events, I cannot tell what has so strangely
changed the oracles, once so famous in Greece,
unless it be that God's Church is holy ground, into
which these evil spirits dare not venture. And this
our emperor seems to have found."

" But who ventured to interrupt him ?" said the
Armenian.

" No one made any direct opposition ; but as he
was sacrificing 1 lately in front of that magnificent
palace which he has built at Nicomedia, with all
his court about him, some of his domestic officers
were seen to make the mark of a cross upon their
foreheads. They wished, I suppose, to remind them-
selves of the sign which was given them in baptism,
and which bound them to have no share in such im-
pieties. One of the augurs saw what they did ; and
whether he wished to conceal some mistake he had
made, or that a real effect followed, he cried out
directly, that the sacrifice must end, for that the
gods would not give an answer in the presence of
these Christians. Valerian is said to have com-
menced his persecution against us in consequence of
a complaint which, in like manner, was made against
us by the Egyptian priests." 2

The Armenian's reply was interrupted by the
hasty arrival of a few horsemen. The rank of their
leader was more evident from the respect with which

1 This circumstance is mentioned by Lactantius de Morte
Persecutorum.

2 Eusebius, vii. 10.

CH. I. THB DISCOVERT. 9

the whole party received him, than from his arms or
dress. He wore the light greaves and cuirass, and
carried the long lance of a common trooper ; but his
horse, which he managed with much skill, without
seeming to be burdened with the small round buck-
ler of the Roman cavalry, was one of the best which
was supplied from the studs of Cappadocia.

" Marcellus," he said, with a commanding tone,
"have you the men whom I ordered in readiness V

" Most noble Caesar," said the centurion, " they
are ready to mount at a moment's warning/'

" And these are the Armenians, with their strange
companion ?"

Then, turning to Viriathes, the Caesar Galerius
said, " This, then, is the Scythian, of whom your
king has informed me. What does he report re-
specting the Persian host ?"

" His tidings," said the Armenian, " are certain
and important. He says that they have advanced into
the level country, from which we are now removed
but about ten miles; and that they are so little
acquainted with the passes of these hills, that they
are utterly ignorant of our approach."

Galerius paused for a moment, and then turning
to Marcellus, " How can we be sure that this is not
another Persian stratagem? I have no mind to
kneel down, like our predecessor Valerian, when
Narses mounts on horseback, that my back may
serve for his stepping-stone."

" King Tiridates offers to vouch for the fidelity

10 RUTILIUS,

■of Mamgo, and says that he has already committed
his family and flocks to his care."

" That is something," said Galerius ; " I would
warrant your Scythian careful about his herd, what-
ever he may be as to his family."

The centurion said no more : he may have felt
that he was touching on delicate ground; for that no
one should know more about the care of cattle than
Galerius himself, who had been brought up a com-
mon herdsman.

The Armenian profited by his silence : " The
opportunity which we have to-night," he said, " may
never return. The Persian army seldom encamps
so near the highlands, for fear of a sudden surprise ;
and they would not have approached them at present,
were they not utterly ignorant of our march. Your
army has not been heard of since you passed the
Tigris, and entered thi3 mountainous district; and
they suppose you to be full three hundred miles to
the westward. At all events, let me advise that a
party be sent to observe the position of the Persians,
and to report whether Mamgo' s information be not
correct."

" I will do more," said Galerius ; " I will go
myself. Marcellus, let your men mount imme-
diately. I see I remember the faces of most of
them : that swarthy African fought with us against
the Bagaudae, in Gaul; and so, I think, did his
companion : but who is this fair-haired youth, who
stands beside you ?"

CH. I. THE DISCOVERY. 11

" This, noble Caesar, is my nephew, Rutilius : he
comes of a martial family ; and if he is young, yet I
will vouch him to be as ready to serve as I was when
I gained my first promotion in our sally from Treves
the day Herculius was made consul."

" Ah, I have heard that was as sharp a storm as
it was a sudden one."

" True, noble prince. The Emperor Maximian
was just seated in his curule chair of office, and had
been saluted by his new name of Hercules, when the
Germans might be seen defiling along the adjoining
heights. He leapt from his chair — he was on horse-
back in a few minutes — by mid-day the barbarians
were* completely routed ; and before sunset he was
again in his chair of state, receiving the thanks of
the citizens."

" Those Gallic peasants, the Bagaudae, stood some
sharper brushes than that. But. they say that the
two leaders ; who gave us so much trouble were
Christians ; so it is likely they were well trained in
rebellion."

The centurion would evidently have dropped
the conversation ; but as Galerius looked to him for
a reply, he answered boldly, "That they were Chris-
tians I never heard; had they been so, they would
surely have imitated the quietness and loyalty of
their brethren."

Galerius gave an angry glance : " What ! are
you one of them ? This is new to me. How can
you do your duty to your emperor V

12 KUTILIUS.

" Did I ever fail of it V said the centurion.

" How can you worship the eagles which our
ancestors called the soldier's gods ? Think well : you
have already a service. Why, but last year we had
to behead a youth, who was brought to enlist by his
own father, because he said he was Christ's soldier,
and would not take service under any earthly king."

The colour mounted to the centurion's brow at
the last remark, which evidently affected him deeply ;
and his nephew seemed to share his confusion. He
had begun to reply, " That youth, however noble,
was not acting on the principles of the Christians,"
— when he was cut short by the arrival of his men,
who had been despatched for the horses. In a few
minutes the whole party issued through the principal
gate of the embankment which surrounded the Roman
station. They had been standing in the space which
intervened on every side between it and the tents of
the soldiery. The Scythian led the way, mounted
on a short but active horse, which he managed with
wonderful address. Then came the Armenians and
Marcellus, while the other soldiers rode behind or
on each side GaTerius. But they were soon obliged
to form in column; for after riding for a mile or
two over open country, they entered the precipitous
ravines which led into the plains. Never was mag-
nificent scenery lost upon less observant specta-
tors. The sun was just sinking' below the horizon,
while a broad red light glowed upon the lofty moun-
tains towards the north-east, which rose immediately

CH. I. THE DISCOVERT. 13

behind them. Before them lay a series of craggy
promontories, ascending to a great height, and clothed
on the sides with thick wood, which, broken by the
occasional projection of gigantic rocks, gathered at
the bottom into an impenetrable mass of shade.
Now and then an occasional opening would give a
passing glimpse into the region beyond, and a level
champaign of vast extent was seen to stretch away in
the uncertain light of evening ; just as the monotonous
labours of middle life are dimly contemplated by the
ardent youth, before he can persuade himself to bid
a last adieu to the fanciful day-dreams of his child-
hood. So thought the young Rutilius, as he looked
upon the scene of which his companions were so
regardless. His youth had been passed at Athens,
where natural talents for literature, and a love of
whatever was sublime in nature or art, had been
matured by the study of the philosophy of Plato.
But his model for active life had been the other
favourite disciple of Socrates, whose celebrated
march through these very regions had rendered him
the more impatient to follow his uncle's career in
the armies of the emperor. That such should be his
coarse, had long been promised by his father ; and
though now an only child, — another brother having
been lately lost to the family under circumstances of
peculiar distress, — he was committed to his uncle's care,
from whose high character, and supposed favour with
the emperor, he had been accustomed to anticipate
advancement. And this uncle, whose necessary ab-

14 RUTILIUS.

sence he had often heard regretted in his father's
household, whom but two days ago he had seen for the
first time, and found every thing which his warmest
wishes could desire, he had now heard acknowledge
himself to be — what the world in general treated
with so much contempt, and what among his own
kindred was regarded with peculiar abhorrence — a
Christian.

CHAPTER II.

Z%t Battle. 1

Unharnessed chariots stand along the shore ;
Amidst the wheels and reins, the goblet by,
A medley of debauch and war they lie.

Dbtdbn's Virgil.

The reflections of Rutilius were interrupted by the
difficulty of the path, which soon became so precipi-
tous as to require his utmost attention. A mountain-
torrent found its passage through the rocky and
wooded bed of the valley ; and by its side, and along
its bottom, the Scythian horseman pursued his course
without hesitation. Accustomed from his youth to
the management of horses, the young Roman could
not suppress his astonishment at the perfect unity
which seemed to exist between this native of the
desert and the animal which carried him. And then
the singular features of their guide — his small eyes
sunk in his head, his short and ill-shaped legs, his
powerful arms and shoulders, seemed altogether to

1 The events which follow are recorded by the ordinary his-
torians of the period, Ammianus Marcellinns and Eutropius ;
while additional circumstances are supplied by Lactantius De
Morte Persecutorum, and by the historian of Armenia, Moses
of Chorene.

16 BUTILIUS.

point him out as a fit original for the fable of the
centaurs which had amused his infancy. Such obser-
vations could only be made when they issued occa-
sionally into a glade where the upper foliage ceased
to be continuous, and could catch a glimpse of the
moon, which was now riding high in the heavens.
It was near, midnight before the Scythian stopped,
and addressed a few words to Viriathes in the
Armenian language. A general halt followed ; and
Galerius, attended by two of his men, ascended a
slight eminence, from which, by the failing light of
the moon, he could overlook the Persian encamp-
ment. The army of Narses stretched over a vast
extent of country ; and the total want of order, the
merriment and festivity which still continued in
several quarters, the horses tethered by chains to
prevent their escape, while their riders lay slumber-
ing in tents at a distance, — all shewed how fatal to
them would be a sudden attack.

After they had watched the prospect for a time,
the Scythian made a signal in what seemed to Ruti-
lius to be a harsh and almost unearthly language,
which was instantly responded to by a small party of
his countrymen who hastened from the camp. They
conversed for a few minutes in front of the trees by
which the Romans were concealed ; and then Mamgo
returned to communicate the result to the Armenian.

" They remain here," said Viriathes, " for some
days, waiting reinforcements ; they have neither senti-
nels nor ramparts ; and as they are obliged to tether

CH. II. THB BATTLE. 1 7

their horses to stakes in order to secure them, they
can neither escape nor oppose a sudden attack."

" Here, then," said Galerius, " we may repay
them the disasters which we suffered last year on
that open plain in Mesopotamia. These ridges
answer our purpose as well as that sandy level did
theirs. Narses may walk himself in our triumph; or
we may exchange him for that stuffed skin of the
unhappy Valerian, which they say that the Persians
have kept to this day." Thus muttered the Caesar
to himself, as, with a smothered access of passion
at the thought of his previous disgrace, he began
slowly to retrace his steps ; after sending on one of
the Armenians to give notice that the army should
be ready to march early in the following day. Viria-
thes, who remained, rode at some distance behind
him with Marcellus.

" Your Caesar seems provoked at the thought of his
last year's defeat," said the former in his own language.

" You would not wonder at his anger," replied
the Roman, " if you had witnessed what I saw when
we met Dioclesian at Antioch after our escape. Gale-
rius had put on his robe of purple, and expected to
have been received as usual by his father-in-law.
But Dioclesian reproached him for having exposed
the Romans to certain defeat, by following Crassus
instead of Trajan, and thus entangling himself among
the sandy plains near the Euphrates. No chariot
had been provided for him ; and as Dioclesian would
not receive him into his, he had to walk after it a
c2

18 BUTILIU8.

full mile into the city. Your king Tiridates has
some cause to remember that day. How did he
escape ; for he seemed almost deserted when I lost
sight of him ?"

" His escape," said Viriathes, " was wonderful.
If Galerius had to walk a mile, he had to swim good
part of one. He was cut off by the Persian cavalry
from the small body, of Romans who escaped, and
had to fly towards the eastward. An hour's riding
brought him to the Euphrates. The Persians were
just behind, and his horse was wounded. He had
just time to plunge into the stream ; and, what none
of his subjects but himself could have done, for you
know his great strength, he swam across it."

The conversation was now broken off by the
difficulties of the ground, which continued till within
a short distance of the Roman camp. The passage
of an army through such defiles was so difficult, that
the Roman troops were ordered to be on their march
before morn on the following day. By a late hour
in the evening they were mustered in a small plain,
about three miles from the enemy, when the watch-
word was given, and the different leaders received
their last instructions. Marcellus headed a party
which was to break into the Persian line at the very
point to which the Scythian had conducted him on
the preceding evening. While waiting the summons
to advance, he called aside his nephew, from whom
he had been separated during the hurry of the day.
" The course of our attack," he said, " leads

CH. II. THE BATTLE. 19

directly to some tents, which, as I learn from the
Scythian, are occupied by the wives and children of
the great king."

" What !" said Rutilius, " do the Orientals bring
their women and children to look at the grisly face
of war?"

" Such is their habit," replied his uncle ; " in
which I have a further reason than you think for
being interested. In the Persian inroad which fol-
lowed our defeat last year, many Romans were car-
ried into a distant captivity, and among them a noble
maiden, with whose fate is bound up my own happi-
ness. For her sake it was that I volunteered to join
this expedition, from which my services might have
given me an exemption ; and the report of the Scy-
thian leads me to suspect that she is now in attend-
ance on the wife of Narses. And now, young man,
observe my words. In this attack all will be bent
on plunder ; for I expect that no effectual resistance
will be made by the Persian army. Let me have
your aid, therefore, in my attempt to penetrate
directly to the tents of these Persian women, and to
secure all whom it contains." ^

Rutilius readily promised his assistance, though
he would gladly have known something more re-
specting the object of his uncle's solicitude, and was
surprised at learning the existence of feelings of
which he supposed the rugged soldier to be desti-
tute. He received from Marcellus all the informa-
tion which Mamgo had supplied respecting the situa-

20 auTiLius.

tion and distinguishing marks of. the tents towards
which their efforts were to be directed, and which
Marcellus had fancied that he could dimly descry
on the preceding evening. The description was no
sooner given than they received the signal to ad-
vance: in perfect silence, unbroken save by the
occasional ringing of some legionary's sword as he
stumbled against a projecting rock or tree, the Ro-
mans moved on in several columns. On their way
they were joined by the small body of Scythians,
who, on a signal from Mamgo, left the Persian lines.
The column which Marcellus commanded was the
first to appear upon the plain, and, after forming into
line, to draw their swords and to clash with them
upon their bucklers, as they rushed against the nearest
portion of the enemy's encampment. The confusion
which followed was what Xenophon has described as
the result of a night-attack upon an Eastern army.
The Persians hurried forth from their tents to capa-
rison their horses, which were tethered at consider-
able intervals ; and some time was lost in removing
the shackles with which they were commonly secured.
Before their work was completed, the assailants were
at hand ; and fortunate were those who could escape
on foot. A small force in the immediate neighbour-
hood of the king's person was better prepared. A
few elephants had been kept ready for instant ser-
vice, and about two hundred men were drawn up in
front of the royal tent. This delay saved the person
of Narses from the attack of Marcellus and his

CH. II. THE BATTLE. 21

nephew. A few of their men held together , though
many had already quitted the line during its advance,
to seek plunder in the tents which they had over-
thrown. For a few minutes there was a hot struggle,
in which Marcellus shewed the daring and coolness
which had been well tried in the wars of the West.
When the elephants were driven against his line, he
called to his men to open and allow their passage*
and then rushing forward, he slew, with his own
hand, the leader of the royal body-guards. Rutilius
seconded him bravely ; and in a few moments their
opponents were flying like the rest of the army, —
though not till several persons had issued from the
royal tent, and mounted upon horses which stood in
readiness ; one elephant also passed with a rapid and
unwieldy pace in the same direction, and Rutilius
fancied that he could descry some female figures in
the tower upon its back. A moment, however, and
all had disappeared in the darkness. The royal tent
was fairly surrounded ; but when it was on the point
of being pillaged by the soldiery, Marcellus raised
his voice, and with a commanding tone ordered his
men to forbear. " This tent," he said, " must be
kept till the Caesar has declared his pleasure ; seek
elsewhere your booty." The order was readily
obeyed ; for spoils of incredible wealth were scat-
tered on every side : every where might be seen
common soldiers leading off the war-horses of the
Persian nobility, loaded with sumptuous trappings.
One man had met with a bag of pearls, which he was

22 BUTILIUS.

pouring out, from ignorance of their value, that he
might carry away the leather which contained them
with more convenience. No one but had furnished
himself with some valuable ; Marcellus only and his
nephew were anxiously guarding the royal tent, which
they had their own reason for preferring to any other
prize. When they had collected men enough to se-
cure all its outlets, they proceeded to learn whom it
contained. Their prisoners, they soon found, were of
great value, being no less than the wives and children
of the Persian king ; but the countenance of Marcel-
lus fell, when, after a most diligent search, he was
compelled to abandon the hope that the ample pre-
cincts of the royal tent contained the captive maiden
whom he was so desirous to rescue.

Memorial of Roman victory in the East
From a com of Julian.

^*3

Flying Parthian. Prom the Arch of Sererus.

I

CHAPTER III.

The shepherd last appears,
And with him all his patrimony bears ;
His house and household-gods, his trade of war,
His bow and quiver, and his trusty cur.

Dbtdkn's VirgtL

The second day after the battle found the victorious
army in motion towards the town of Nisibis, the
strongest post which the Romans possessed in Me-
sopotamia, where Galerius expected to be joined by
Dioclesian himself with the reserve. The object of
the campaign was already answered. The Persians
had fled across plains where it was impossible to
pursue them ; but in the wives and children of
Naroes, the Romans had the best hostages for his

24 RUTILIUS.

submission. At Nisibis, therefore, a peace was con-
cluded, — the Persian monarch renouncing all claim to
that wide region which extended northward of the
Tigris, between the Caspian Sea and the ridges ot
Caucasus. A large part of this country was added
to the dominions of Tiridates. Nor were the infe-
rior agents of Rome forgotten. Mamgo, with his
Scythians, was allowed, by Tiridates, to occupy a fer-
tile plain near the Araxes ; and Marcellus, to whose
rapidity and forbearance was attributed the capture
and preservation of the family of Narses, was advanced
to a station of greater trust by the emperor.

As soon as a treaty was made, the army moved
westward; but, to the surprise of his comrades,
Marcellus solicited and received an appointment in
the neighbourhood of Nisibis ; and, at his desire, his
nephew remained with him. Rutilius was not as
yet enrolled as a regular soldier, his uncle having
hitherto retained him as a sort of attendant upon
himself; and to this arrangement the young man
the more readily consented, because it would leave
him at greater liberty, if, as he suspected, there was
still some scheme in agitation for the deliverance of
the captive, of whom he fancied he had caught a dis-
tant glimpse through the darkness of the night of
battle. Though the dejection under which his uncle
evidently suffered prevented him from making any
direct inquiries, yet a few hints which had been
dropped induced him to put this interpretation on
the frequent visits of Viriathes, who had attended

CH. III. THE EXPEDITION. 25

the king of Armenia to Nisibis. But he was soon to
receive clearer information. Aoout a month after
the departure of the Roman army, the governor of
Nisibis sent for Marcellus, and desired him to under-
take a service of great importance, which required
his presence in Egypt. The veteran would gladly
have declined, but the governor would take no ex-
cuse ; and as the party which was sent had to cross
directly through the desert which intervenes between
Mesopotamia and Palestine, it required a soldier of
experience for its command. Though purposing to
return as speedily as possible, Marcellus now thought
it necessary to impart the subject of his anxiety to
his nephew. Viriathes had ascertained, from some
followers of the Persian army, that Flavia — such was
the name of the lady he sought — had not returned
into Persia after the battle, but that she had been
carried away by one of those independent chieftains
who followed the standard of Narses ; but no tidings
could yet be gained of the place of her captivity.
Yet Viriathes had not given up his search ; and if
any news arrived from him before the return of Mar-
cellus, his nephew was to make immediate application
for assistance to the governor of Nisibis.

Nothing occurred for some time after the depar-
ture of Marcellus. But at length Rutilius was sur-
prised by the sudden arrival of Viriathes himself.
He had heard that Flavia was the captive of a Cur-
dish chieftain, whose tribe was in the habit of ranging
to the south and south-east of the Caspian, and who

26 RUTILIUB.

commanded some strong places towards the Cau-
casus, which the late changes had attached nominally
to the authority of Rome. In that wild region, Viri-
athes stated that there were various independent
leaders, who held fortresses among the rocks, from
which, should they be driven, they would probably
retire either into the depths of Caucasus, or into the
Scythian desert. As yet the capturer of Flavia had
left her, with his other booty, in one of his strongest
mountain-fortresses, while he had himself gone, as
was thought, to meet some distant members of his
tribe; and it was of the utmost moment to rescue
her before he could retire to some more distant
region, where to follow was impossible. This news
had reached Viriathes at Tigranocerta, where he was
in attendance on Tiridates ; and he had hastened to
Nisibis to inform his friend.

The resolution of Rutilius was instantly taken. It
suited well with the ardour of his youthful enthusiasm
to traverse those wild mountains, of which he had
seen the outskirts while with the army of Galerius,
and to attempt the deliverance of this captive maiden.
Already did he in fancy bring her back from her lonely
captivity, and anticipate his uncle's delight when he
should return to meet his betrothed bride. Having
obtained a sum of money in his uncle's name, and
secured the services of a few well-mounted men, he
set out with Viriathes on the following morning.
Their route lay at first along the level plain of Me-
sopotamia, where travelling was rendered safe by the

CH. III. THE EXPEDITION. 27

authority of Rome. They soon reached the Tigris,
which was swelled by the melting of the snows on
the lofty ridge which forms the southern barrier of
Armenia. Happily, however, there were vessels to
be procured. The difficulty of crossing this rapid
stream recalled die thoughts of Rutilius to the inter-
esting narrative of Xenophon ; for the hilly country
into which he was now about to enter was the same
through which the ten thousand Greeks had been
compelled to retreat, in order to avoid the deep
rivers of Mesopotamia. The party soon began to
ascend along a precipitous mountain-path, which, fol-
lowing the direction of the water-courses, led into the
heart of the mountains. The Roman now felt how
much he was indebted to the assistance of his Ar-
menian guide. At times their way was along narrow
defiles, where the mountains seemed every moment
about to close before them, and to forbid any further
access into the secrets of their wild grandeur. A
sudden turn would unexpectedly give a passage into
a green and fertile valley, teeming with all the luxu-
riance of natural beauty ; just as a miser will some-
times be prodigal of his gifts, when he has been
induced in some single instance to forego his wonted
parsimony. At such times Viriathes would send
forward one or two of his countrymen, — for a small
party had joined him at the entrance of the moun-
tains, — to ascertain whether any danger was to be
expected from the rude inhabitants. At night he
carried the Roman to villages which preserved the
same simple form which had been described by

28 RUTILIUS.

Xenophon. " The houses were underground ; the
mouth like a well : a wider space within. There was
a paved entrance for the descent of cattle ; the men
went down hy ladders. Within there were sheep,
goats, cattle, and birds." They had now reached
the highest level of the mountains, and after a time
began to descend towards the plains to the north-
west. And now Viriathes, whose conversation had
hitherto been of a general kind, began to enter more
particularly into the difficulties which lay before
them. He had gained more certain information from
the party which had met him on his route. He was
assured that Flavia was in a castle adjoining the
great lake of Arsissa, or Van, as it has since been
called; and that the fortress was held by a large
body of Scythian soldiers, who were masters of the
city of Artemita, or Van, which lay beneath it. With a
view to obtain entrance into the castle, Viriathes pro-
posed to seek the assistance of Mamgo, whose wild
tribe was settled in the neighbourhood. On this ac-
count he had crossed the hills at some distance from
the line which he would otherwise have adopted, and
he now descended considerably to the westward of
the lake of Arsissa.

" You crossed the Tigris four days back," he
told Rutilius ; " you imagine that the Euphrates is
far behind you ; but towards evening you will cross
a branch of it again."

" How shall we get over?" asked the Roman.
" The Tigris was so flooded, that but for the aid of
vessels we should have been unable to pass; and

CH. III. THE EXPEDITION. 29

since these two rivers are said to rise in the same
range of mountains, their streams are no doubt
highest at the same period."

" The floods of the Euphrates," said the Arme-
nian, " are not yet begun. Its waters run from the
northern side of the mountains, whose southern face
is drained by the Tigris ; and it is ever a week or
two later before the melting snows increase the
northern stream."

So the travellers found it. They passed easily
over a large branch of the Euphrates which ran in
a north-west direction, and speedily approached the
tent of Mamgo.

While they were approaching the Scythian en-
campment, Rutilius put some questions to his com-
panion respecting its chief. "You are right," re-
plied Viriathes, " in supposing that Mamgo is unlike
any of the wandering Scythians of this land. 1 He
comes from a country which lies eight months' jour-
ney to the eastward. The whole of the immense
tract which lies between is uncultivated, and uninha-
bited except by wandering shepherds like himself.
But if his accounts can be believed, a kingdom of
greater wealth, if not of greater power, than even
your famous empire lies beyond. Indeed, we have
proof of its riches ; for the silk which you so highly
value is known to be common enough among these
inhabitants of Seres. Mamgo has often told me, as a

1 The history of Mamgo is given by Moses of Chorene,
Hist Armen. ii. § 81.

d2

30 RUTILIUS.

mark of their industry, that they have raised a wall
of prodigious height and thickness, which runs for
some hundred miles along their frontiers, to guard
them from the incursions of his countrymen. How-
ever, they can be in no fear of them at present ; for
he himself is a fugitive, in consequence of the anger
of the king of Seres, and his countrymen have either
been subdued, or have fled to the northward, into those
trackless deserts which extend to the western bounds
of your empire on the Danube and the Rhine.' 9

The curiosity of Rutilius was excited; and he
learned, by further inquiry, that Mamgo had fled
for tefuge to the king of Persia; and when the
Chinese emperor had demanded his surrender, had
been allowed to occupy his present quarters; the
king of Persia saying that he had inflicted a heavier
punishment than death, by banishing him into the ut-
most West. Mamgo's own discontent with his place
of settlement had led him to espouse the party of the
Romans. Viriathes said something further, on the
possibility that these Huns — for so this nation of Scy-
thians was called — might one day become dangerous
to the civilised world ; when their conversation was
stopped by their arrival at a rude encampment.

Rutilius knew by description what was the mode
of life among the barbarous Germans ; but now he
saw the savage state in a different form. A single
glance shewed him that, instead of the fastnesses
among woods and marshes, to which the Germans
trusted for defence, — the Scythians, whom he was

CH - HI. THB EXPEDITION. 31

visiting, had no dwellings which the labour of a few
minutes would not enable them to remove. The
Germans fought on foot, and trusted for success to
their desperate valour ; but the vast number of ani-
mals which he saw about the encampment shewed
that the Huns were an equestrian and a pastoral
people. The Roman armies had often retired be-
fore the swords of the naked Germans ; but here he
saw weapons of another kind — bows of prodigious
length and size, and arrows so large, that, like those
which the companions of Xenophon had taken from
the Carduchians of the adjoining mountains, they
might be used as javelins. Such weapons were
leaning on every side against the row of small cir-
cular tents which surrounded the encampment.
These tents were occupied by Mamgo's followers :
in the middle stood the somewhat larger dwelling
of the chief himself. It was a wooden shed, of the
rudest workmanship, raised about three feet from
the ground, and supported on six wheels, which had
perhaps transported it over half the circumference
of the earth. In front of it was the Scythian, seated
at his evening repast. The day seemed one of fes-
tivity ; for in place of their usual diet, the milk of
mares, several of his tribe were sharing with him in
a meal on horse-flesh. While Mamgo arose to wel-
come Viriathes, the Roman had time to remark the
extreme deformity of the Scythian countenance. In
Mamgo himself it was sufficiently apparent ; but when
Rutitius saw that the harsh and projecting bones of

32 RUTILIUS.

the cheek, the low forehead, the short nose, the
small eyes, the mis-shaped though powerful legs and
body, were not peculiar to the chieftain, but were the
characteristic of his race, — he could understand the
popular legend, afterwards so prevalent in the em-
pire, that the Huns were descended from demon
fathers, and that their mothers were the witches of
the Scythian desert.

He saw his hosts under more favourable circum-
stances the next morning, when, accompanied by a
body of thirty Huns, Viriathes and himself moved
forward on their enterprise. He could not deny
them the praise of being the best horsemen he had
ever beheld : it seemed as if all the functions of life
— to eat, drink, and even to sleep — were as easy to
them when mounted on their small but active horses,
as when stretched beside them on the plains. The
deformity of their lower limbs might be clearly
traced to the constant habit of riding, among a
people to whpm the use of stirrups was unknown,
and it contributed to give them a firmer seat upon
the animal. He expressed his admiration to Viria-
thes ; adding, however, that from their rudeness
and ignorance, he saw no reason for the apprehen-
sion which the Armenian had expressed for the
safety of the civilised world.

" True," replied Viriathes ; " but you are not
perhaps aware of that which has been declared to
us Christians in our sacred Scriptures — though, in-
deed, I am told that such anticipations may be ga-

CH. III. _ THE EXPEDITION. 33

thered from some of those heathen predictions which
have been preserved among you. This vast empire
of Rome, which has stood for so many centuries, and
which you Romans fondly call eternal, — we know that
it is to be speedily destroyed, and that some great
change is to befall the whole aspect of the world."

" I have no great faith," replied the Roman, " in
such predictions : we have many of the kind you
say in our Sibylline books ; but did you ever know
art instance in which they served to guard men against
a coming danger ?" v

u Did you never hear how the Christian inhabit-
ants of Jerusalem were preserved when the Emperor
Titus destroyed the city ? his coming had been pre-
dicted forty years before, and some circumstances
described which attended it. When the Roman eagles
first appeared before the city, the Christians con-
sulted some principal teachers who were at that time
alive; and, by their advice, departed in a body a few
days before the blockade commenced. They con-
tinued at Pella after the destruction of the city ; and
it was a curious consequence of their origin, that in
this place there long existed a body of persons who
were greatly censured by the other Christians for
adhering to their Jewish customs."

Rutilius was struck by the instance his companion
had adduced ; but he merely replied, "Supposing you
have such a prediction, why should you expect any
danger from these wandering Scythians?"

" Because this seems the part of the world

34 fUJTILIUS. ^

from wnkh alone could come such a host as to be
dangerous. The northern parts of Europe have
been explored — they are inhabited by many wild
nations; but you have often overcome them. The
Persians you have lately conquered; and they are
not inclined to leave Asia for such distant regions.
Africa is inhabited but by few and unwarlike na-
tions. But mis boundless expanse of Scythia might
supply men enough to overrun all the rest of the
world. Their custom is to roam from place to
place ; they are at home wherever their horses and
cattle can find pasture ; they have weapons which
even your legions cannot resist; and what I hear
from Mamgo of their present movements makes me
think it not unlikely that they may sweep like a wave
over the whole West. I learn from him, that, in con-
sequence of the conquests of that great empire of
Serica" (China), " of which I spoke to you, his
countrymen have begun to move towards the north-
west. The whole of Scythia is in motion. Mean-
time your armies are becoming every day more effe-
minate ; your soldiers have laid aside their defensive
arms ; and, if 1 rightly understand our prophecies,
they have exactly prepared themselves for the de-
struction by which they may at any moment be
overwhelmed. God grant it may be distant ! I
have too many friends among you to desire to be-
hold such fearful events, even though our doctors
tell us that they are a step towards the complete es-
tablishment of the Christian name."

CH. III. THE EXPEDITION. 35

Rutilius could not deny that the Armenian was
right in supposing Roman discipline to have degene-
rated, however visionary he might think his fears of
the approach of the Huns. But his attention was
now drawn off by the prospect of the Arsissa Palus,
a lake of surpassing beauty, embosomed in lofty
mountains, which was just opening to their view.
" On the further side of that lake," said Viriathes,
" lies the object of our search. Two of us, with
as many Huns, must enter secretly into the city of
Artemita, leaving the rest of our followers in the ad-
joining plain to await the result of our attempt, at
a place where we shall appoint them. Mamgo re-
ports, that to storm the castle where Flavia is con-
fined would be impossible ; but he thinks it possible
that stratagem may be more successful." Rutilius
resolved to enter Artemita himself, in company with
Viriathes, who would not be left behind ; and they
arranged their measures while skirting along the sides
of the mountains which descended toward the lake.
At length a turn in their course shewed them towers
on the top of a lofty rock. At this point they parted
from all their companions, except two of Mamgo's
people, who were well known to the Scythian masters
of Artemita; and in the disguise of Jewish merchants,
which Viriathes had procured, understanding that
there were many of that nation in the town, they en-
tered the place at a late hour in the evening.

CHAPTER IV.

&J)r Cajrtfoe.

What soul soe'er in any language can

Speak heaven like her's is my soul's countryman.

C&A8HAW. ,

While the travellers had been surveying the rocky
castle of Artemita from a distance, its interior had
been the scene of unusual bustle. . A large body of
Scythians had returned from a distant expedition;
their weary horses might be seen foddered in every
direction about the town ; while they had themselves
collected within the courts of the fortress. They
seemed to be looking out for some one ; and when at
length they ceased to expect his arrival, they ga-
thered round various fires, where they spent a large
part of the night in noisy carousals. Their loud
mirth was a singular contrast to the still and even
melancholy grandeur of a vast pile of building which
formed one side of the court, and which, lighted up
at times by the flickering of their fires, shewed worn
and channelled walls which had stood for centuries ;
while so soon as the fires decayed, it loomed forth
a black and undistinguishable mass against the sky.
This building was continued on the other side to the
very verge of a precipice of prodigious height, which

CH. IV. THE CAPTIVE. 37

overhung the town ; westward lay the lake, too dis-
tant to be seen in the darkness, yet likely to become
visible soon after midnight, when the rising moon
would probably shed a silver light on the summit of
the snowy heights beyond, and reveal something of
the exceeding beauty of the valley which lay beneath
them. So, perhaps, thought two females, who might
be seen at times looking down upon the rude forms
of the Scythians, when the glancing of the fires shed
an occasional light upon them, and then turning
towards another window of the same apartment,
which, being above the sheer descent of the preci-
pice, looked forth at present into nothing but the
fearfulness of a black abyss. One of them had the
countenance and manner of the West ; the other was
obviously of Scythian origin. They talked as friends ;
but the Scythian maiden had that sort of respect for
her companion which might be supposed to arise
from the consciousness of inferior knowledge and
civilisation. " Our chieftain will not come to-night,"
she said, after looking for some time through the
latticed window; "so that to-night, at all events,
you need not fear. Yet why should you be so un-
willing to wed the bravest warrior on the plains of
Scy thia ? Which of the daughters of our tribe would
not think it an honour ?"

" Kind maiden," replied Flavia, for she was the
person addressed, " I long for my own land, and for
those of my own faith. Have I not told you that
I worship the Christian's God, of which your tribe

E

38 RUTILIUS.

knows nothing ? And for your wild life, were it not
that my faith in God forbids, I would rather throw
myself down yon viewless precipice than share it."

" Say not so," said her companion ; " do you not
know that my cousin has told the Armenians where
you are, and that your countrymen will surely seek
to ransom you ?"

" Alas ! what hope of it, since to-morrow is to
carry me into distant slavery, where the very name
of a Roman is unknown ?" So saying, Flavia threw
herself down in an agony of grief; and her companion
had enough of natural feeling not to break in upon
sorrow which it was impossible to alleviate. She
left the room ; and meeting some of her countrymen,
learnt that their chief would probably arrive in the
morning, and take immediate steps for their depar-
ture. Flavia was thus left to the solitude which she
better liked than any thing else which her captivity
allowed ; and when she had at length recovered her
self-command, she seated herself at a window fur-
thest removed from the revelry of the Scythians,
and sat waiting with calm dejection for the rising of
the moon. " So this," she said to herself, " is the
last night that I shall enjoy this prospect, which,
even in my captivity, I have learnt to love. Yet
why does my faith so totally fail me? Why may
not the God whom I have implored deliver me even
yet from my oppressors ? I know that the lake lies
below me, and the verdant valley before it, though
the moon has not yet risen to discover its beauty.

CH. IV. THE CAPTIVE. 39

God's providence may in like manner be working
for my good ; though as yet His gracious purposes
are hidden under a veil of equal darkness."

The thought seemed to give her comfort, and to
enable her to have recourse to what had been her
ordinary occupation at this solitary hour. Undis-
turbed, unregarded, did this Christian maiden lift up
her voice to God in this distant land; and no less
comfort did she experience than the prophet-courtier
ffhen he supplicated for his people beside the streams
of Assyria. At length the moon ascended, and dis-
covered the full beauty of the scene before her. To>
calm her feelings, she began to sing in a low voice
some verses which she had either composed, or
which the scene suggested to her.

Soft on my ear the distant waters roll,

As pity's accents on a wounded soul ;

While here by eve's serenest light I scan

This scene too lovely for offending man.

Say, was it lovelier then that garden-ground

Of Eden's rivers four encompassed round ;

Say, were its groves more green, its skies more bright,

That primal dwelling of divine delight ?

Oh, might the beautiful of earth recall

What once our fathers lost by Adam's fall ;

Might but to-morrow's sacred hours display

That innocence to heaven which fled away ;

Calmed by its power, our troubled hearts should sleep,

As in the moon's pale beam yon trembling deep.

So were some portion ours of heavenly bliss,

Nor needed fairer Paradise than this.

Flavia had scarcely ceased, when she fancied that,

40 BUTILIUS.

from the very heart of the rock beneath her feet, a
hollow voice uttered her own name. She started at
the strangeness of the summons : a moment before,
and she had thought that the wretchedness of her
condition could not be increased ; but now her soli-
tary situation, and the stories prevalent respecting
that castle, filled her with unwonted awe. The
castle was said to have been the work of that impe-
rious woman Semiramis, who was accustomed to
retire to it, for what purposes no one knew ; and it
was certain that sounds were at times heard from the
solid rock underneath its roots, which could be traced
to no human inhabitant. Flavia endeavoured to re-
cover herself; some fancy of the brain, she thought,
had taken possession of her at the unusual words of
her native language, even though proceeding from
her own lips. After a moment she cast a wary
glance around, as a startled child gives a furtive
look at the object which has alarmed him. The
moonlight fell full upon the central portion of the
room, and for a moment she doubted whether her
senses were failing her. But no ; she distinctly saw
the floor open, and a figure in human shape rise erect
out of the ground. A moment more, and she gave
a slight shriek and fainted.

CHAPTER V.

0}r fttratttt.

As when a vulture on Imaus bred,

"Whose snowy ridge the roving Tartar bounds,

Dislodging from a region scarce of prey,

To gorge the flesh of lambs or yearling kids,

On hills where flocks are fed, flies towards the springs

Of Ganges or Hydaspes, Indian streams. Paradise Lost.

The next morning found the castle of Artemita in
the utmost confusion. The Scythian chieftain had
returned to it shortly before day, intending, in the
course of the morning, to withdraw his more valuable
effects to a distant settlement. He had given notice
that he should instantly espouse his beautiful Roman
captive. The daughters of his tribe were already
envying her fortune. But when the chamber was
opened, in which she had been confined the night be-
fore, it was found to be empty. The key had been
entrusted to one of the most careful of the Scythian's
followers, who had seen Flavia in her chamber when
he locked the door ; and his testimony was con-
firmed by the maiden who had visited her on the
preceding evening. Even had she escaped from her
own chamber, the staircase beneath was securely
guarded. Yet the lattices of her window were secure,
so that she could not have precipitated herself from
the castle. Underneath, also, there were no marks
that any one had fallen from the height above.
e 2

42 RUTILIUS.

The sagacity of the Scythians was at fault, when
a hunter, who was returning from the southern side
of the lake, reported that a party had been seen rid-
ing rapidly in that direction ; that they were guided
by one of the Huns from Mamgo's tribe ; and that a
lady of Roman dress was among them. Instantly
the Scythian camp was in motion ; and before night
a powerful body of men was on its way along the
southern bank of the lake ; while another party was
coasting its northern side, in order to cut off that
nearer access to Mamgo's territory. The evening was
far advanced before either party saw any thing of the
small body of fugitives, which was headed, as may
be supposed, by Rutilius and Viriathes. They had
coasted round the southern margin of the lake, hop-
ing that, as it- was not inhabited by the Scythians,
they should escape pursuit. But just before dusk,
one of the Huns informed the Armenian leader that
he saw a party of Scythians, too large for them to
oppose, in pursuit. " What do you counsel ?" said
Viriathes. " My advice is, that you encamp on the
m 1 1 nonce opposite to us, and wait while 1 and one of
my companions hasten, by different routes, to bring
Marngo and his Huns to your rescue. There are
piiths over the mountains by which we can pass,
though I fear that the whole plain is occupied by
the Scythians." Their horses were beginning to feel
the effects of a day of labour ; and, after selecting a
*j>ot where a lofty grove of trees would secure them
from the Scythian arrows, the party of fugitives de-

CH. V, THE PURSUIT. 43

termined to rest. Cutting down a few trees behind
and around them, to intercept the charge of cavalry,
and securing their horses in the midst, where the
leaves of the trees which they had felled would yield
them forage, they prepared to spend the night.
Meanwhile two of the Huns, whose hardy beasts
seemed incapable of fatigue, had passed on at a
rapid rate in different directions.

It was not long before a large party of Scythians
were seen on the plain below. But the darkness
was now coming on apace ; and as the fugitives had
lighted no fire, and were completely covered in the
wood which sheltered them, their enemies found it
impossible to discover their retreat. And now Ru-
tilius, who during the day had been too much occu-
pied in hastening their retreat to do more than tell
Flavia the general' ^purpose of his coming, proceeded
to give a more detailed account of all that had hap-
pened. Her first inquiries were after Marcellus.
She was assured that he was safe. Where was he ?
He had been called by duty into Egypt, and had
employed Rutilius to be on the watch whenever
news arrived of her retreat. And how had she been
removed from the tower of Artemita. All that she
remembered was her alarm at what seemed a super-
natural appearance ; and she had only been recalled
to recollection by the chill air which fanned her
cheeks as she was borne hastily from the town.
Rutilius explained why it had been necessary to
subject her to such alarm. On his arrival in the
town on the preceding evening, he had heard o/ the

44 KUTILIU8.

unexpected return of the Scythian chieftain, and that
next morning he would probably carry his pri-
soner into the desert. By the guidance of an Arme-
nian, with whom Viriathes was acquainted, they had
immediately examined the castle ; and though on
the lower part it was well guarded, they found that
on its higher side the possessors trusted entirely to
the inaccessible height of the precipice. Rutilius
questioned their guide on the possibility of holding
communication on this side with the prisoner above.
At first he declared it to be impossible. At length,
when the Roman offered a large sum if he would
point out any way of access, the guide told him that
it was believed that Queen Semiramis, the founder
of the castle, had hollowed out the upper part of the
rock; and that various chambers which were known
to exist there had communication with one another*
" It is possible," said the Armenian, " that through
them a man may reach the summit ; but no one has*
ever ventured on the attempt. Evil spirits are sup-
posed to inhabit these caves by night, and the Scy-
thians are even more to be dreaded during the day."
This was just such an opportunity as Rutilius de-
sired. His Armenian guide procured three ladders,
of great length from different persons in the place,
vhich were firmly lashed together, and by the help
of the two attendants were raised against the wall.
They reached to a dark spot, which their guide had
been assured was a passage which opened into the
bottom of the subterranean chambers.

Every thing being arranged, Rutilius began to

CH. V. THE PURSUIT. 45

ascend the ladder with a firm step, though their
Armenian guide could scarcely be prevented from
holding back Viriathes, whom he declared he should
never again behold. Too much excited to share his
alarm, they were only fearful lest they should be
unable to make way along the narrow ravine, which,
after creeping under a number of beetling rocks, sud-
denly admitted them into the body of the bill, A
space of total darkness followed. They then emerged
into a large chamber, lighted only by a narrow aper-
ture in the rock, which rusty irons and human bones
shewed to have served the double purpose of impri-
sonment and death. After a long search, a crevice
enabled them to escape from this gloomy dungeon ;
and they made way by a projecting corner of rock
into another apartment. On the way, they found the
outside of the rock indented with the words of an
earlier people, in that arrow-headed character, which,
after the destruction of great part of this castle by
Tamerlane, still excites the curiosity of travellers.
But no such object detained them; they pressed
onward, and by various degrees had nearly reached
the summit of the natural rock, when they found
all further passage impossible. If they looked out
through the narrow crevices, which alone allowed
the moonlight to enter, they could see nothing but
a crag above, which projected over the precipice.
They passed from one chamber to another, till they
had thoroughly explored the whole range of caverns
which they had reached. Every where it was vaulted
over, and they were at a loss to conceive by what

46 RUTILIUS.

means it could have been approached from the castle
above. They were almost ready to abandon their
enterprise, and to thread their way back, when the
words of a Latin hymn were heard immediately above
them ; and from the clearness with which they could
distinguish the sound, they felt assured that some
communication existed between the chamber they
had reached and the floor of that above it. Rutilius,
who had lingered somewhat behind his companions,
had been the first to distinguish the sound; and
from the words and tune, which he knew were
favourite ones with Marcellus, he was satisfied that
the voice must be that of Flavia. A more close
examination shewed him a small trap-door in one
corner of the subterranean vault ; and after once
calling Flavia, he resolved to ascend, fearing lest
any further sound should alarm the castle. For the
same reason they could not await her recovery, but
instantly carried her down, shutting carefully the door
through which they had ascended. They found their
guide beneath; and Flavia gradually recovered before
ttiey reached a place where they could safely rest.

But though what had appeared the greatest diffi-
culty was surmounted, yet Rutilius felt that their
present situation was not a little embarrassing. Till
the Romans reached Artemita, they had not been
aware that the Scythian chief had returned; and
bad expected that escape would be easy, so soon
as Flavia was out of his grasp. It was with much
anxiety, therefore, that Rutilius saw the light begin
to display itself next morning, and perceived that

CH. V. THE PUKSUIT. 47

detachments of Scythians were wandering at con-
siderable distances over the plain beneath. His
small party remained closely hid in their place of
concealment. But about noon a Scythian, who ap-
parently had detected the footmarks of their horses,
approached rapidly towards their encampment ; and
after coming near enough to satisfy himself that
persons were in the wood, rode hastily back to give
a signal to his fellows. In an hour's time, the whole
plain was covered with horsemen in rapid advance.
They had evidently expected to secure their pri-
soners at the first onset ; for they rode up without
order, each one holding his bow of horn in his left
band, and having his long and powerful arrow ready
in his right. But Rutilius was prepared for their
reception. His Roman soldiers were clad in armour,,
and had javelins of great weight, proper to hurl at
short distances, or to strike a foe hand to hand.
The Huns and Armenians were less securely de-
fended ; but their bows and arrows nearly resembled
tLe weapons of the Scythians. The Huns had no
clothing except the skins of animals ; but the fur,
which they had allowed to remain, was a sufficient
protection against most weapons. Not till the Scy-
thians had reached the felled trees which impeded
their passage was any opposition made. They had
already expended their first flight of arrows, and were
thrown into confusion by this sudden obstruction,
when Rutilius's soldiers, who had been sheltered
beneath this breastwork against the flight of arrows,

48 BUTILIU8.

rose as one man, and rushed upon them with a shout.
The arrows of the Huns and Armenians were dis-
charged with deadly effect ; the Romans dealt their
thrusts hand to hand; and at least twenty Scythian
horses ran masterless into the plain. The assailants
fled on every side ; and though they continued to make
feigned attacks, yet, being utterly unaccustomed to
engage except in the open field, they did not venture
on any second assault upon the Roman encampment.
The Romans passed the day under arms; but
their situation became most distressing when the
evening approached, and no assistance was at hand.
Their provisions were totally exhausted, and they
could not even venture to an adjoining rivulet for
water. Their enemies shewed no disposition to
retire, and they had reason to fear lest in the night-
time they might be attacked and overwhelmed by
numbers. As soon, therefore, as darkness favoured
them, they determined on continuing their retreat.
Flavia was placed in the centre, Rutilius being on one
side, and Viriathes on the other ; the Huns rode in
front to guide, the Armenians and Romans behind
to defend the party. At first they seemed to escape
the observation of the enemy, who were still mus-
tered in large numbers in front of their camp. But
a wild cry behind them convinced them that their
stratagem was discovered. Still, as their horses were
fresh, they hoped before morning to accomplish a
march which should place them beyond the pursuit
of the Scythians. But when they had ridden for about

CH. Y. THB PURSUIT. 49

three hours as fast as the inequality of ground would
permit, and had reached a narrow ravine, where
their path finally left the neighbourhood of the great
lake which had hitherto been stretched on their right
hand, they found the pass, which it was essential to
traverse, guarded by a large body of Scythians. The
moon had now risen; and as they rode through the
dark bottom of the valley, they could see the wild
figures of these children of the desert moving rapidly
about on the brow of the eminence before them. So
close was their order, that the outline of their dark
mass drove by, as the rack may sometimes be seen
to do in front of the brighter groundwork of the sky.
As there was no other passage, the heavy -armed
Roman horsemen were put in front, Rutilius himself
taking the lead. Thus ordered, they galloped upon
the enemy, and were fortunate enough to escape with
but few wounds from the shower of arrows which
met them. The Scythians did not await a close attack,
but fled right and left from the armed body, closing
afterwards like the waters round the keel of a vessel.
They had suffered somewhat from this sudden attack ;
but in a few minutes they were again in pursuit, and
the flight of arrows whieh they discharged made a
second sally of the Romans necessary. And now
Rutilius put in execution a stratagem of which he
remembered to have read in the campaigns of Xeno-
phon. When his Roman soldiers had made their
attack, a signal for the charge had been given by the
trumpet* When this had been twice repeated, and
p

50 RUTILIUS.

the Scythians had each time suffered considerably
from the superior weight of the Roman weapons, he
prepared his men at its next sound to adopt an
exactly contrary course. The Scythians again drew
near ; their arrows began to rattle against the Roman
armour. Rutilius called to his men to stop, and
made preparation for a new sally. A furious blast
was blown with the trumpet. The Scythians, ac-
quainted with the signal, fled in precipitation. The
Romans, prepared for the occasion, fled with equal
rapidity in the contrary direction ; and such progress
had they made before the Scythians could detect the
stratagem, that they saw no more of them for a con-
siderable part of the night; and then the pursuers
appeared only to be themselves routed ; for a large
body of Huns, headed by Mamgo, was now entering
the defile, which they had been following during
some hours ; and their presence at once compelled
the Scythians to fly. Rutilius could now retreat
slowly ; and before evening, he was able to conduct
the wearied Flavia to the encampment of the Huns.
There she enjoyed a few days' rest ; and then, attended
by Viriathes and Rutilius, she passed the mountains
to Nisibis. As Marcellus was not yet returned, Ru
tilius undertook, at her earnest desire, to conduct heq
into Egypt. They pursued their way by land tq
Tyre ; and then the young Roman, having met wi
the master of a ship with whom he was acquaints
took rather a hasty leave of his charge, alleging th,
business prevented him from visiting Egypt, am

CH. V.

THE PURSUIT.

51

that the short remaining distance would be per-
formed safely enough under the guidance of his
friend. Flavia expressed her sorrow ; she wished, she
said, that Marcellus himself should testify the grati-
tude which she knew that he would feel towards his
young relation* But Rutilius seemed fixed in his
resolution; and, after agreeing therefore with the
master of the ship, who promised to conduct her to
Marcellus so soon as they landed in Egypt, she sailed
from Tyre the second day after their arrival.

O,

From the column of Theodosius

CHAPTER VI.

8$r fJUtontet.

Since neither wealth nor honour, arms nor art*,
Kingdom nor empire pleases thee, nor aught
By me proposed in life contemplative
Or active, tended on by glory or fame,
. What dost thon in this world 1 the wilderness
For thee is fittest place.

Paradise Regained,

Rutilius watched the departure of the vessel in
which Flavia had embarked, and then turned back
to consider how he should employ his leisure, now
that the object was withdrawn to which he had so
long directed his attention. The nature of his feel-
ings towards her he had never exactly realised to
himself. He had sought her first as the object of an
uncertain adventure; and his ardent and romantic
temper would have found sufficient recompense in
the risk and interest of the enterprise. He had
afterwards viewed her as his uncle's betrothed bride,
and his generous spirit forbade him to mix one selfish
feeling with his admiration and respect. Yet, in the
familiar intercourse of their journey, the thought
would occasionally arise, that so young a person
could hardly have that perfect sympathy with a man
of his uncle's age, to which her earnestness of cha-
racter seemed to entitle her; and, notwithstanding

CH. VI. IHB PLATOKIST. 53

her anxiety to see Marcellus, there was not, he
thought, the manner of one who was hastening to
meet a lover.

These circumstances had gradually produced
an effect upon his mind, which the purity of his
feelings would altogether have prevented, had she
been already united to another. The conscious-
ness of his feelings had dictated his sudden reso-
lution to stop at Tyre, instead of proceeding, as
had been his original intention, to Alexandria. But
it was not till he saw the vessel under weigh, and
Flavia waving her hand to him as she sat in its
lofty stern, that he felt the full bitterness of spirit
which the separation produced. He seemed, for
the first time in his life, to be without an object.
During his younger years he had been carried away
by the hopes of literary eminence which Athens of-
fered, and had risen to early distinction among his
associates ; but as he grew in years, he seemed to
stand in need of some more active employment.
Eloquence had in former days swayed the world;
but now he found that power was only to be pro-
cured by the sword of the legions. He left Athens
thirsting for the military glory to which he hoped
that his uncle's influence would open a path. He
had joined his uncle only to learn that the ample
opportunities, which might otherwise' have existed
for his promotion,- were cut off; because the veteran
soldier had been, as he thought, unhappily tainted
by the Christian superstition. Just at the moment

F %

54 RUTILIUS.

when his prospects had been thus blighted, his path'
had been crossed by the beautiful vision which was
now melting before his eyes. He had found a tem-
porary object in the interest of Flavia's rescue, and
since that time in ministering to her comfort. Her
anxiety to set before him the excellences of the
Christian system had certainly rendered it more at-
tractive in his eyes, though his prejudices had not
yielded to her influence ; but his thoughts had been
so fully occupied by her presence, that he had never
remembered what a void her absence would pro-
duce. Ambition seemed for the last two months to
have gone to sleep, and refused to wake up in a mo-
ment for the relief of the mind which had abandoned
it. What should he do ? To visit the friends of his
family — the avowed object of his remaining at Tyre
— was an effort to which his spirits were unequal.
Yet, if he left the place, whither should he go ? He
could not bring himself to return to his family at
Antioch ; for the luxury and dissipation of that
wealthy capital seemed to pall upon him, oppressed
as he was with the feeling of the disappointing nature
of all earthly enjoyments. The only thing which
relieved the craving misery of his emotions was the
sight of those natural objects, which remain still the
same amidst all the varieties of mortal feeling, and,
like the rocks which overhang the sea, reflect some
shadow of their abiding existence upon the fluctuating
waves of thought. The varied coast, therefore, in the
neighbourhood of Tyre, the lofty heights of Lebanon,

CH. VI. THB FLATONIST. 55

its wintry summit, its ancient woods, — these he trod
for days together, especially when storms ravaged
the coast, and when the gigantic cedars were shaken
to their roots* At such times he would review what
Viriathes had told him of the intense interest with
which the Christian community watched the gradual
growth of their faith, and of their firm conviction
that it would one day spread itself as widely as the
world of waters which he saw extended below him.
Then would come the remembrance of that sweet-
ness and delicacy of mind which he had seen in
Flavia, and how she had adorned the principles
which she professed. One day, as he was meditat-
ing on these subjects upon the shore, at no great
distance from Tyre, he was startled by the sound of
bis own name ; and saw, at turning, an elderly man
of a singularly intelligent and penetrating counten-
ance, whom he at once recognised as a teacher of
philosophy whom he had known at Athens. He
wore the cloak which marked his profession; and
bis commanding manner shewed that he was accus-
tomed to deference from his disciples.

" Rutilius," he said, " do I see you on this shore,
where gold is the only thing men care about ? Have
you changed Apollo for Plutus, and sacrificed the
fame of Athens for the wealth of a Phoenician mer-
chant?"

**I am but a stranger here," replied Rutilius;
" and wealth is to me of as little value as reputa-
tion.*

56 RUTILIUS.

" Spoken like a philosopher," replied the other ;
" I see you did not study Aristotle's rules respecting
happiness in vain. But what is your present pur-
suit ? Have you retired into these woods alone, td
solve any of those difficulties which yet perplex our
inquiries ? Are you considering the grand question,
how Aristotle and Plato are to be reconciled ; and
have you satisfied yourself whether Pythagoras first
learned the doctrine of abstract essences in this
land?"

" You speak," said Rutilius, " as if you were still
amidst the groves of Academus. I can remember
the intense interest which such inquiries then ex-
cited ; but of late I have found in them less satis*
faction."

" I suspect that you are suffering under the mad-
ness of love."

" No," replied the young man, rather faintly ;
" I am not in love* My affliction is, that I have no
object; I have tried every thing — all ends in disap-
pointment"

" If this is your feeling," said the philosopher,
'.' follow me. I am staying for a time in Tyre, where
I have kinsmen; and I promise to open to you
sufficient sources of interest to satisfy your mind.
Your state," he added, as they walked together
along the shore, " is not uncommon, though it be-
longs only to superior understandings, such as yours
was shewn to be during your stay at Athens* It is
enough for men in general to be employed in seek--

CH. VI. THE PLATONI8T. 57

ing for wealth, or expending it ; to be hewers of
wood or drawers of water for the real masters of the
world. The cattle who draw a wagon seem to be
moving it ; but it [is the directing mind which rules
its motion, to which the whole machine is subser-
vient. So it is with those of us who have heart to
rise superior to the vulgar objects, of which you
appear to have discerned the vanity. We draw near
to the true Source of power ; we are swallowed up in
Him ; we discern the secrets of the universe in our
mysterious intercourse with its Author ; we look be-
hind the veil of matter, perceive its vanity, and are
lost in the fruition of the Godhead. This is the
sublime life which was so long led by my master Plo-
tinus, and to which I myself am proud to have at-
tained. Yes," he continued* with a sort of frenzied
inspiration, " why need I further linger, as Hesiod
says, about rock or tree : was not I who speak to
you but yesterday so entranced with the spectacle
of the world of thought, that for a season I totally
lost myself, my spirit travelled forth and held inter-
course with the only true reality ; and I perceived that
there is no existence except in thought V' 1 He con-
tinued to talk in this manner as he walked home*
wards, accompanied by Rutilius, who was a good
deal impressed, as well by the confidence as the nan
ture of his promises. He soon saw that the young
man was dissatisfied by the grossness of idolatry;

V Porphyry, life of Plotinus.

58 BUTILIUS.

but that no other system had as yet taken possession
of his mind. " Depend upon it," he exclaimed,
"your meeting me will be exactly like Plotinus's
first entrance into the school of Ammonius, when he
turned round, and said to his friend, * This is the very
man I was in search of.' 1 I see that you long for
something higher than the low cares of this world
can give, and yet that the barrenness of the ordinary
idol-worship gives you no content* To whom then
ought you to come, but to such as I am ? The phi-
losopher is the priest 2 of the supreme God ; ' his
study is the whole of nature, and those various ope*
rations of which it is the scene. The ordinary
priests worship none but the inferior Deities,"

Before Rutilius took his leave, he asked his com-
panion's name, that he might visit him next morning.

"Here," said the philosopher, "I pass by my
hereditary name of Malchus. At Athens you may
remember that I was called, after the custom of the
Greeks, by one borrowed from their own language.
My own name in our ancient tongue, which is nearly
the same with that of the older sacred writings
of the Christians, means king; and because the Ty-
rian monarchs were clad in their native purple, my
brother philosophers, from the Greek name for that
colour, call me Porphyry."

It was with this celebrated enemy of the Chris-
tian faith that Rutilius had fallen in ; and to him he

1 Porphyry, Life of Plotinus.

2 Porphyry on Abstinence, ii. 37.

CH. VI. THB PLATONIST. 59

went the next morning, curious as well to see how
far he could fulfil his promise, as to learn something
respecting that singular sect of the younger Pla-
tonists, which had grown up within a few years, and
numbered Porphyry among its chief leaders. With
the general history of the Greek philosophy Rutilius
had become familiar while he lived at Athens. He
knew that it dated to the time of Socrates as the
grand era when truth and reason began to prevail.
Till then those who called themselves wise men had
only amused their hearers with groundless specula-
tions on the nature and origin of the world ; some
saying that every thing consisted of watery, others
of earthy atoms ; but no one attending to the prac-
tical questions which men were interested to know.
Every philosopher whom he had attended referred
to Socrates as the author of his inquiries. This
great man had shewn his fellows that their main
business was the study of themselves ; that it was
idle to speculate about the universe around, till the
little universe of man's own heart was at peace.
And by thus directing them to a practical subject,
and one in which they could make some real pro-
gress, he had given a new stimulus to the reason-
ing powers, which had even made men better obn
servers of outward nature. This Rutilius had par-
ticularly observed in the instance of Aristotle, whc
had made the first accurate inquiry into natural his-
tory. His celebrated book on animals, as well as
the % discoveries of Archimedes, had only been the

60 BUTILITJS.

carrying of the Socratic method from the moral into
the natural world. When Rutilius was at Athens,
he had found those four schools of philosophers still
flourishing, which had arisen from the impulse given
by Socrates to the world of thought. Besides the
Platonists or Academics, and the Peripatetic philo-
sophers, who called Aristotle their master, he had
been a hearer of the Stoics and the Epicureans. The
last he had never been able to endure ; he had seen
their principles brought forward as the excuse for
the sensuality of the period, which his mind was na-
turally too refined to relish; and though he knew
that some metaphysical doctors of this school pro-
fessed that no such consequences followed from their
arguments, yet he could not but judge their doctrine
by its ordinary effects. With the Stoics he had
been much better pleased, particularly by their at-
tention to the practical rules of moral and political
philosophy. The philosophers of the Lycaeum and
Academy, as the disciples of Aristotle and Plato
were respectively called, though they seemed to him
to deal in moral principles of a far higher tone than
those of the Stoics — referring man to the sense of
original duty, while the Stoics had appealed chiefly
to his pride of heart — had yet perplexed him by
recurring so constantly to metaphysical subtleties.
Their constant topic was the origin of men's ideas,
and the degree of evidence that what was presented to
him by his senses had any existence independent of
himself. By speculations of this kind, the followers

CH. VI. THB PLATO XI8T.. 61

both of Plato and Aristotle, and in a measure even
these philosophers themselves, had made a false ap-
plication of the principles of Socrates. He had con-
fined his attention to men's actions, and to their judg-
ments on what was right and wrong ; and had there-
fore taught his followers to refer back every indivi-
dual decision to certain hidden but universal laws,
which had their root in man's inner nature. These
laws depended on those principles of judgment re-
specting human duty, which, though they require to
be called out, or educated (to use the word in its
original sense), by a practical attention to individual
actions, yet have their sanction in the unalterable
decisions of the heart. Now, from perceiving that
these general determinations, though they had no
apparent existence except in man's thought, were
yet the real principles of morals, the philosophers of
the Socratic school were led to look in every case
for similar realities — for a species of universal ideas,
possessing a more real existence, more fruitful,
living, and valuable, than the individual instances
which suggested them. Of this nature were Plato's
ideas, which he set forth as abstractions of the mind,
in which all the reality of external things was ga-
thered together. And a notion somewhat similar,
though differently expressed and more partially
acted upon, pervades the system of Aristotle.

The followers of these great men, whom Rutilius
had attended, when they succeeded to the inheritance
of their master's theories, had employed themselves

G

62 &UTILIU8.

in pulling down, rather than in building up. The un-
certainty of all knowledge of individual objects —
the absence of positive evidence that what we see
is any thing but an impression on the senses — men's
consequent state of doubt, whether they have any
real assurance of the existence of that which seems
to be going on around them, — this was their favourite
topic. Plato had taught them that there existed a
reality greater than that of external objects, if men
could but find it ; but, for their part, they contented
themselves with shewing how possible it was that
the external objects which men fancied to exist were
at all events nothing but a vision. On this point
they were perpetually battling with the Stoics, who
took every thing in its simplest form, called every
thing by its own name, and were the advocates of
all existing institutions, not excepting even the pueri-
lities of the popular superstition.

Rutilius, who was dissatisfied both with the
coarseness of the Porch (so the Stoic school was
called) and with the subtlety of the Academy, hoped
that Porphyry would lead him into that higher appli-
cation of Plato's doctrine, which was said to have
been lately discovered. Plotinus, the principal
teacher of these new truths, had settled at Rome.
He had in reality only obeyed the impulse which
was at this period leading all philosophers to ally
their theories to some positive system of revealed
truth. The old schools had now existed above five
hundred years — they had exhausted all the natural

CH» VI. THE PLATONIST. 63

topics of thought — had built up all the open ground
of men's imagination with imposing structures — and
yet nothing real, tangible, and satisfactory, had ap-
peared. The doubtful and afflicted still needed a
home, yet could find none. There was nothing to
satisfy men's craving for a bliss which should be abid-
ing and sufrlcient. Yet, as in all outward matters,
the stern, practical, business-like spirit of the Roman
was found to prevail over the versatile subtlety of
the Greek ; so in the region of man's spirit, some-
thing substantial was looked for to explain the empty
theories of an earlier age. This was part of God's
providential preparation for that Church of Christ,
the true haven of the weary and afflicted, for which
philosophy had in fact prepared the way by shew-
ing its necessity. Philosophy had sounded the
depths, and discovered the chill desolation of the
world of waters, at the very moment when the ark
drew near, in which was to be found safety, cer-
tainty, and contentment.

But while this tendency in man's feelings fa-
voured the growth of the Christian faith, it also
fostered a multitude of ancient superstitions, which,
hid before in different countries of the East, were
now brought out and blended with the ancient philo-
sophy. Plotinus had been so sensible of his need
of such assistance, that he had visited the East in
the train of the Emperor Gordien, in order to con-
verse with Indian and Chaldaean sages. The more
complete union of the notions of Plato with the tra-

04 BUTILIITS.

ditions of the East was effected a little after the
period of this narrative, when Jamblichus and Hie-
rocles, who were settled at Alexandria, professed to
explain the Greek philosopher by reference to the
revelations of early fable. But Plotinus was suffi-
ciently imbued with the same spirit to betieve that
all true knowledge must come from a perception of
abstract truths, which could be gained only by a
mystic union with the Deity. Thus he looked for
a perpetual revelation, but without that miraculous
sanction which had proved the reality of the Chris-
tian. Like a man whose eyes are obstructed by a
cataract, he was sensible that light had dawned upon
the earth; but prejudice had so far blinded his sense,
that he knew not in which quarter the Sun of Right-
eousness had arisen. He could not but feel that
supernatural communications were abroad in the
world ; but he had not learnt where to find them.
Established prejudices prevented him from doing
justice to the assertions of the Christians ; and
what litde he knew of them was the less likely to
conciliate his attention, because it was chiefly of
those wild Gnostic writers who had even outgone
himself in error. These Gnostic speculators had a
great likeness to the philosophers who had preceded
Socrates : both parties employed themselves in form-
ing visionary theories of the universe ; but the ancient
philosophers of Greece had taken their notions from
external objects ; while Scripture, mixed with popular
fiction, was the subject-matter of the Gnostic fables.

CH. VI. THE PLAT0NI8T. 65

When Rutilius betook himself to Porphyry for
an introduction to that mysterious wisdom which the
philosophers of this school professed to possess, he
found that his master, instead of that measure of
doubt which had prevailed among the Academic phi-
losophers, professed a total disbelief in outward
things. They had merely asserted that there might
be impressions which had no counterpart in external
nature ; but he positively denied that any thing ex-
isted except in our own thought. Not that he pre-
tended to that full conviction on this subject, which
was gained, he said, by his master Plotinus. " I once
went so far," he told Rutilius, "as to write against
this position of my instructor, and to maintain that
those objects which produce impressions upon us
through our senses have an inherent reality. Plo-
tinus employed my fellow-disciple Aurelius to an-
swer me; and so irresistible were his arguments, that
after three days I was compelled to yield. 1 had
felt, indeed, from the first, that Plotinus must be
right; but I had wished to put him to the test, and to
do full justice to the objections which had arisen in
my own mind. Not," he said, " that you can under-
stand this subject, till, by abstracting your mind from
all earthly objects, you enter into that union with the
Deity, which may shew you those universal truths
which are the only proper realities."

By holding out hopes of this sort, Porphyry re-
tained his hold over the young Roman ; though his
1 Porphyry, Life of Plotinus.

W? RLTILIUS.

pupil soon felt a want of reality and of practical
meaning in his system. They often conversed at
Porphyry's house, and frequendy walked to some
gardens at a distance from the town. There a Stoic
philosopher, named Crito, would sometimes take
part in their conversation.

" Your system,'* said the Stoic one day, " has
much in it, no doubt, that is sublime ; but it is
greatly wanting in applications to practical life.
We live not in a state of halcyon calm, but amidst
the tumult of this great empire, where men need to
be guarded against the moral contagion which pre-
vails every where around them. Remember what
Cicero said, — that he could not act upon the rules
which he had received from your philosophy, because
he lived * not in the republic of Plato, but among
the dregs of Romulus.' Had he but drank, as Cato
did, of the pure draught of the Stoic discipline, he
might perhaps have saved Rome from her degrada-
tion through the ambition of Caesar."

" I do not believe," said Porphyry, " that any
thing could have saved Rome at that time from the
despotism which was the necessary consequence of
her vices. But so far are our doctors from thinking
that these precepts might not be practically exhi-
bited, that my master Plotinus, in order to afford the
most perfect model of a happy community, entreated
the Emperor Gordien, who was at times one of his
hearers, to allow him to occupy a small deserted
town in Campania with a colony of Platonists."

CH. VI. THB PLATONIST. 67

The Stoic smiled at what even he felt to be a
visionary scheme. " What," he said, " prevented
the undertaking ?"

" The influence of some about the emperor. Had
we ever had one of our disciples invested with the
purple," continued Porphyry, " the design might have
been tried with success. But as to the hopes of you
Stoics, why was not your teacher, the Emperor An-
toninus, able, by all his influence, to realise them ?
Was the world permanently better for this example
of a Stoic, in supreme command ?"

The Stoic could not say that Aurelius had per-
manently reformed mankind: he muttered some-
thing about the neglect of the ancient religion, which
had withdrawn those restraints by which the mass
of men had previously been ruled.

" True," said Porphyry, " the popular religion,
rightly understood, might be of great avail. But un-
happily you Stoics have undertaken the defence of
its gross corruptions, and thus have joined in lower-
ing the majesty of the gods. The great king of all,"
he exclaimed, quoting a favourite saying of his
school, "is the sole originator."

" This is the very doctrine of our great Cleanthes,"
replied the other; and he proceeded to repeat the
celebrated Stoical hymn to Jupiter.

first of immortals, praised by many a name,
Great nature's chief, by laws for aye the same, —
All hail I — For thee, O Jove, all mortals own ;
Sprang from thy race, thine impress, and alone

68 KUTILIUS.

Faint echo of thy power from lower earth :

Thee thus we sing, the parent of our birth.

Nor thee without is aught that earth contains,

Heaven's blue abyss, or ocean's boundless plains,

Save what, in despite of thy sage decree,

The sinner works against his destiny.

Of chaos order, of contention peace,

Thou know'st to form, and bid confusion cease ;

Who thee forsakes, in sin his bliss to find,

Forsakes his own felicity of mind ;

But who thy wisdom's just command obeys,

Unlocks the blessed store of prosperous days.

Does fame still flatter men — does gain delight,

And pleasure tempt them by its treacherous slight ?

Then, Jove, all-bountiful, the thunder's lord,

From their own folly save this race abhorred ;

Purge the dark spot that to their soul adheres,

That order teach which rules the innumerous spheres ;

That we, in turn, thy glory may proclaim,

And hymn, as fits us, thy majestic name:

Nor man nor god can aught ennoble more

Than law's eternal empire to adore.

" A noble poem this," said Porphyry ; " but
how far is this removed from the vulgar feel-
ing of our common worshippers ! There is an in-
scription, for example, under that image; — let us
draw near and look at it; in all likelihood it is
something which will rather degrade the being it
is meant to honour."

The statue was the god Priapus, — a roughly
carved block of wood, which had little to distin-
guish it from a number of logs, intended appa-
rently for firing, which lay beneath it. Below was

CH. VI. THE PLAT0NI8T. 62*

an inscription from Martial, which Porphyry read
aloud,— r-

" Priapus, nothing rich nor rare,

But a few stumps are here your care ;

Yet see your zeal this charge secures ;

What difference in their birth and yours ?

Remember, if the hearth be cold,

Yourself was but a log of old.

What possible respect can men feel for a supposed
divinity, which they can insult by such threats as
this?"

The Stoic did not deny the unsuitableness of the
lines ; " Yet," he said, " the superstition which fixes
such an image in this place is part of an ancient
system which is far better than that which prevails
at present. Deformed as it is, I would rather see it ;
just as I should prefer this garden, if, according to
old custom, the trees were allowed to grow into their
natural shapes, instead of being cut into the regular
forms, and intersected by the neat walks which be-
long to your modern fashions."

" There," said Porphyry, " I agree with you. I
think with Juvenal, that the natural swath of Egeria's
fountain was far preferable to the finest marble em-
bankment.

How much more beauteous were the scene,

Its native turf-banks stretched between,

Where nought that spake the hand of man

Should mar great nature's simple plan !" ,

While occupied in such conversation, there came
up a stranger, who, though not marked out by his

70 RUTILIUS.

dress as a philosopher, yet had something in his
manner and appearance which bespoke the professed
student Rutilius at first wondered who he could
be ; but, on near approach, remembered to have met
him at the house of a relation, whom he occasionally
visited, and to have been favourably impressed by
his appearance and manner.

" Are you a disciple of one of these philoso-
phers ?" said Pamphilus, for that was the stranger's
name, as Rutilius seemed about to follow his compa-
nions, who were just quitting the garden.

"lama hearer of Malchus," said Rutilius; " but
I have never professed myself, and perhaps never
shall 9 his disciple."

" I am going towards the city," said Pamphilus,
" and, if you please, will accompany you."

As the two philosophers seemed completely occu-
pied with one another, Rutilius accepted the offer,
and soon fell into conversation, to which the other
seemed anxious to lead, on the subjects which were
at this moment occupying his mind.

" So you have become a hearer of this renowned
philosopher of ours," said Pamphilus, " in order to
learn the secret of that happiness which elsewhere
you could not attain ? Do you find your attempt
successful ?"

" By no means," said Rutilius ; " I cannot deny
the ingenuity of his arguments; but his teaching is
without reality, and the subjects which he treats of
do not come home to my heart. If this be all that

CH. VI. THE PLATONIST. 71

philosophy can offer, I might as well seek to find
my happiness in the pleasures of life."

" And why cannot you find your happiness in
them ?" said his companion.

" I scarce know why I cannot," said Rutilius :
" perhaps it is the effect of early disappointment.
Certainly the things of this life pall upon me : I
hare riches, which many want, yet find in them no
comfort ; and I perceive already the truth of that
saying of Aristotle, that men in general desire no-
thing but external goods, whereas they ought to
desire that such external goods as they possess may
be blessed to their benefit."

" The old philosopher speaks truly," said Pam->
philus, " and with his usual wisdom ; but have you
tried his other rule, to free yourself from earthly
adhesions, to follow the guidance of your immortal
part, and lead such a divine life as superior beings
must approve.

w Alas," said Rutilius, " this is what Porphyry
says to me. But it is too cold and cheerless ; 1 cannot
grasp it. I doubt my ability to lead that elevated
sort of life to which you refer ; and even if I could, I
see no satisfaction which would follow. I want the
sympathy of beings who can enter into my wants.
And yet what I read of our popular gods rather dis-
gusts than attracts me. But even our philosophers
confess that affection is a necessary part of man's
being. Does not Aristotle say that the best part of

72 BUTILIUS.

friendship consists in loving others, and that our
love grows stronger the more we exercise it ?"

" You want, then," said Pamphilus, " some ob-
ject higher and more lasting than this world can
give, but of a kind worthy of your affection ?"
" This is what I want, yet despair to find."
" Say not so," said the other. " I have before
now experienced your feelings ; but at present I have
learnt where to seek such an object as you desire.
I can tell you of such a home for your thoughts as
you seem to need — of a comfort which is at once
practical and sublime, true, yet inspiring. But it is
too late, neither is this the place, to enter upon so
sacred a subject."

CHAPTER VII.

Z\t efirtetten #|>ao*opl)er.

Souls are not Spaniards too. One friendly flood
Of baptism blends them all into a blood;
Christ's faith makes but one body of all souls,
And lore 's that body's soul.

Crashaw.

Had Pamphilus rudely proclaimed himself a Chris-
tian, the young man would probably have thought no
more of his words. But as his companion stopped
short of this point, Rutilius called upon him next
morning to renew the conversation.

" Tell me," he said, " what secret of happiness
is this which you possess."

He heard with surprise an avowal of Pamphilus's
faith in Christ. " I thought," he said, " that this pro-
fession belonged only to unlearned men. And what
Porphyry has told me of the Gnostics shews that
your doctors are not free from the wildest and most
fanciful reveries."

"The Gnostics are no doctors of ours," said
Pamphilus.

Rutilius. " How ? do they not call themselves
Christians ?"

Pamphilus. " Many assuredly do ; but they have

74 ftcnLrcs.

left that one fold of the Catholic Church to which all
the benefits of which I have spoken belong. You
must know well, stranger though you be to our insti-
tutions, that in every quarter of die Roman empire,
ay, and beyond it, our system extends ; and it is to
those only who are thus in union with one another
that we give the name of Christians."

Rutilius thought of Viriathes the Armenian, who,
though the subject of another king, had yet pro-
fessed that he was one in faith with the Christians of
the empire ; and he replied, " Indeed, you Christians
do seem to me to make up a kingdom of your own,
which has its own laws, while it extends its ramifi-
cations through various nations ; just as our midland
sea extends its arms and branches among the most
barbarous as well as the most civilised countries."

Pamphilus. " Your comparison is most exact;
for, as some philosophers tell us, that in all these
seas the water stands at the same level, so our widely
scattered brethren, by being united into one body,
retain the same rules, and continue members one of
another. Perhaps you are not aware that our being
thus a kingdom within a kingdom, a separate people,
having our own government — an empire, in truth,
though not offering any disloyalty to our earthly
rulers, — is exactly one of those things which were
long ago predicted, and to the complete fulfilment
of which we look with confidence. Did you ever
hear of the prophecies of Daniel ?"

Rutilius. " I heard Porphyry speak of his per-

CH. VII. THE CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHER. 75

dictions respecting Antiochus and the Ptolemies,
which seemed to him, he said, so exact, that he felt
persuaded they must have been uttered after the
incidents they speak of."

" We have historical evidence," said Pamphilus,
"that his suspicion is ill-founded. Independently
of the testimony of the Jews, who are not inclined
to overrate Daniel's prophecy, because it refers so
plainly to the Messiah, we have a proof of the anti-
quity of the book in the Greek version of the Old
Testament, which was made at least 550 years ago ;
and the death of Antiochus Epiphanes, you know,
did not take place till at least 100 years afterwards.
And if Porphyry can in this way get rid of the earlier
fulfilments of Daniel's prophecy, what does he say
to the later ones ?"

As Pamphilus spoke, he unrolled a parchment
volume of the Septuagint which lay on the table, and
read the vision of Nebuchadnezzar from Daniel's pro-
phecy ; — he paused upon the latter portion : " ' And
the fourth kingdom shall be strong as iron : forasmuch
as iron breaketh in pieces and subdueth all things :
and as iron that breaketh all these, shall it break in
pieces and bruise. . . . And as the toes of the feet were
part of iron, and part of clay, so the kingdom shall
be partly strong, and partly broken. And whereas
thou sawest iron mixed with miry clay, they shall
mingle themselves with the seed of men : but they
shall not cleave one to another, even as iron is not
mixed with clay. And in the days of these kings

76 RUTILIUS.

shall the God of heaven set up a kingdom, which
shall never be destroyed : and the kingdom shall
not be left to other people, but it shall break in
pieces and consume all these kingdoms, and it shall
stand for ever.' Is not this portion of the pro-
phecy by itself," continued Pamphilus, " a proof
of the wisdom of the Being in whose name Daniel
spoke? You know the nature of your heathen
oracles, how they palter and equivocate, and speak
only respecting what is immediately at hand. How
could Daniel know so long beforehand, that such an
empire as Rome would arise after the destruction of
the power of Greece ; and further, that it was ex-
actly as this empire was beginning to decay, that the
sacred kingdom of the Christians should be esta-
blished ? He seems to mean, that there will arise no
other earthly empire of like importance. This is by
no means improbable, though its fulfilment must be
judged of by posterity ; but so far as the positive
part of his prediction goes, we have sufficient proof
of its accuracy."

" What you say is remarkable," said Rutilius ;
" yet I have been accustomed to hear of so many
predictions in which I have placed little credit, that
I find it difficult to repose much confidence in such
statements."

" I don't wonder at it," Pamphilus said; "the
truth is, that prophecies, like other proofs of the
reality of our system, are more fitted to confirm
than to make men Christians. It is the same even

CH. VII. THE CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHER. 77

in respect to miracles. There are many instances,
no doubt, where signal miracles wrought in the pre-
sence of the ignorant have been the means of their
immediate conversion. But in general they have
been rather employed as a proof of a Divine com-
mission to those who are already within the Church,
and for their comfort and satisfaction, than for the
sake of those without the fold. Our Master Him-
self could do no mighty works in His own country,
because of men's unbelief. At present, when no
miracles of a very decided nature, and few of any
sort, are wrought, this is altogether the case ; it was
so in a great measure even in the days of the first
Apostles."

Rutilius. u To what, then, do you refer the rapid
extension of your body?"

Pamphilus. " Its prevalence is, no doubt, in great
measure to be traced to its being so exactly fitted to
the nature of man. Not that it is of a kind to be popu-
lar ; far otherwise. It requires much self-denial, and
many dungs to be abandoned. But there are always
a certain number of people who need comfort, who
find the world incapable of giving them satisfaction,
who look round for some more real and abiding sup-
port; and to such minds the cross of Christ, however
the world may scorn it, is a welcome object."

" Alas," said Rutilius, " you have well expressed
my own wants ; tell me only how I shall find their
satisfaction."

Pamphilus. " For the young and uninstructed who
H 2

78 Rumics.

ask this question, long training is often needed, that
they may understand and appreciate the blessings of
the Gospel. But with yon, who have felt the need of
sympathy, and understand how waste and desolate
is the world when the son of God's light is obscured,
I may take a shorter course. Let me point out to
you, then, that Object, after which men's longing an-
ticipations yearned for so many ages in vain. What
was Plato's saying, that if virtue could shew herself
in a bodily form, all men would be enamoured with
her beauty, but a feeling that mankind needed some-
thing in which all the characters of wisdom and
goodness, of which we conceive when we think of
the Divine nature, should be perfectly set forth?
Again : what do all those sacrifices signify, by which
in all ages men have thought to expiate their sins,
but that they are conscious of a burden of guilt,
from which they must be freed before they can be
happy ? Now in Jesus Christ, and Him alone, you
have an example of perfect purity, and at the same
time a sufficient atonement for those transgressions
which lie heavy on the conscience. In order to
enter into these truths, you must, of course, give our
system a fair trial. You must study the character
of our Master in those writings in which His fol-
lowers have preserved His sayings and His acts.
But, what is much more, you must experience the
effects of that presence of His, by the spiritual in-
fluence which He still diffuses, whereby up to this
day He enters into union with all faithful hearts and

CH. VII. THE CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHER. 79

makes them His own. This is a gradual influence,
which partakes of the nature of a moral habit ; and
you will remember what Aristotle remarks con-
cerning such powers, that they are of a kind which
none can understand but those who experience their
effects."

" This notion of an union with the Deity," said
Rutilius, " is one of which I have heard much among
the philosophers, but is it not rather an enthusiastic
and visionary feeling? Porphyry himself professed
to have experienced it. Plotinus, he says, did so
constantly. It seems to them a sign that they are
"in favour with God. But what proof do they give
me that it is any thing more than a trick of the ima-
gination ? It is dangerous when a man acts even for
himself upon no better evidence than such impres-
sions on his mind ; how, then, can he expect them
to be received as evidence by others ?"

*' You say truly," replied Pamphilus ; " a mere
impression upon a man's mind, since it may proceed
from his own fancy, is no sufficient argument to
himself, much less to others. And this was why I
spoke of miracles as a confirmation to the faithful.
The holy Apostles, who have left us various rules
in the sacred writings, proved, by the miracles they
wrought, that God was truly with them in the utter-
ance of their words. If any one was to arise in this
day, and undertake to teach or exercise Church-
offices, without having received an authority which
came from them, we should require that he also

80 RUTILIUS.

should work miracles, and so prove that his claim
to teach was derived not from his own fancy, but
from the command of God."

Rutilius. " But how is it that at this day any
persons can have an authority from your Apostles
to exercise offices among you ? You spoke just now
of the Apostles as being the immediate followers of
your Messiah — they have long been dead, therefore
— and I know that your Church is at present go-
verned by your bishops."

Pamphilus. " From whom, then, do you suppose
these bishops to have their authority ?"

" I have always heard," said Rutilius, " that
they profess to speak by the authority of your Mas-
ter Jesus Christ"

Pamphilus. " It is true ; but the king's officers
must know through whom they receive the king's
commission. How, then, do you suppose our bishops
to have it ?"

Rutilius. " I remember an assemblage while I
was living at Antioch, which was said to be for the
appointment of a bishop among the Christians ; and
then all the ancient bishops of the neighbourhood
attended, and admitted him, as I understood, to their
own order."

Pamphilus. " It was through the bishops, there-
fore, who preceded him, that his commission came,
and of course it was the same with each of them
when they were themselves admitted to the office.
The first bishops who were thus chosen were ap-

CH. VII. THE CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHER. 81

pointed by the Apostles themselves ; and they might
as fitly have borne the name of Apostles, had they
not been unwilling to take upon themselves so hon-
oured an appellation. Indeed, in one of our sacred
writings, the book of Revelations, they are called the
angels of the Churches ; and the word ' angel,' you
know, means the same as * apostle.' Thus it is that the
apostolic office is still among us ; and here, too, we
see a fulfilment of one of our prophecies. The office
still continues, after two hundred and fifty years,
though, in the meantime, we have seen the empire so
often throw out its possessors. Wherever there are
Christians throughout the world, there are bishops,
descending by succession from the Apostles ; and this
agreement of men so widely scattered seems to us
a fulfilment of our Lord's promise to the order of
His Apostles, ' I am with you always, even to the
end of the world.' "

Rutilius. " But why do you lay so much stress
on the succession of your bishops ? The Roman
empire has still continued to be a monarchy, though
its rulers have been of various families. If you have
officers to bear rule in your churches, what difference
does it make how you get them ?"

" Our bishops," said Pamphilus, " are not merely
rulers; they are an essential part in the chain by
which the blessings which our Church contains are
bestowed upon mankind. You said just now, that
you thought the union with our Master Christ, of
which I spoke, was but a sort of mystical delusion,

82 RUTILIUS.

like the trance in which Porphyry alleges that he
enters into communion with the Divinity ; — I suppose
you think that we have no better means than he had
of knowing whether this mystical union is truly at-
tained ?"

Rutilius intimated that such was his feeling.

Pamphilus. " And you think that we ought to
have some outward proof which we can produce to
another, — such, for instance, as the power of mi-
racles, — if we would be well assured that we in
truth hold intercourse with the Deity ?"

Rutilius. "Yes."

Pamphilus. " But you would not think it neces-
sary that a separate sign should on each occasion
attest the reality of such a Divine presence ? If the
Divine presence had on one occasion given a distinct
mark by which such intercourse might be known,
would not it suffice for future guidance ?"

" It certainly would," answered Rutilius.

" Let me give you, then," said Pamphilus, " some
account of what will be more distinctly explained to
you if you become a learner in our school. Commu-
nion with Christ is not among us sought for vaguely
and at random, and referred to the test of our pri-
vate feelings ; — He has appointed a means by which
it may be obtained, and all the supernatural blessings
which follow from it. This means we call the holy
communion, because in it we communicate with Him;
or the eucharist, because it is the sacrifice of our
thanks. And just as Gentile worshippers are bound

CH. VII. THE CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHER. 83

together by sacrificing to the same idol, and feeding
together on what has been offered ; so do Christians,
in the sacrifice of remembrance which this eucharist
affords, enter into communion with one another and
with Christ."

" You said just now," replied Rutilius, " when
speaking of the offerings of the heathen, that the sa-
crifice of your Master had made that perfect atone-
ment which they could never effect. But it seems
that you yourselves still continue to' offer sacri-
fices."

" But not sacrifices of atonement," replied the
other. " Our eucharist is but a sacrifice of remem-
brance. In the strictest sense of the word, it is no
sacrifice at all ; for, like the offerings of the Jews, it
does not make expiation for sin ; it only carries on
as they anticipated, the true and sufficient sacrifice ;
—but it is a shewing Christ's death — a recalling His
sacrifice ; and it bears the name of that of which it
is an exhibition. But I must return to what I was
saying. It is a part of the bishop's office, that none
but he, or those whom he commissions, can administer
this holy communion. Such has been the rule since,
the days of the Apostles. I see you are ready to ask,
what there is in it which others cannot do ? We know
not. But since the object is to bring man into com-
munion with Christ, and one proof that we hold com-
munion with Him is the promise which He has given,
— we cannot be assured that we use this ordinance
with effect, unless we use it in the very manner which

84 RUTILIU8.

He has ordained. What the order was, may be best
known from what was done by His Apostles ; and
they allowed none to minister this sacrament in the
Church save those who had received ordination at
the hands of bishops."

Here Pamphilus paused, as though he thought he
had introduced subjects enough for a single inter-
view. Rutilius was surprised to see for how many
hours they had been together ; and excused himself
for trespassing so long upon his time. But his host
pressed him to renew his visit.

" There is much which interests me in what you
have suggested," said the young Roman, at parting;
" and something further I should gladly hear. I have
had Christian friends, and would willingly think well
of their principles; but I must tell you that there
is a private reason which must prevent me from ever
joining your ranks, however I may be brought to
approve in general of your conduct."

The other answered : " May your determina-
tion, my young friend, be guided by God's grace ;
for without it you cannot believe, and with it I will
not doubt that you will believe unto salvation."

CHAPTER VIII.

SKsiogtit tottfi yamp^dus. %%t (£f)rf»lfan ©rputp of &gre.

There was an ancient house not far away,
Renown'd throughout the world for sacred lore
And pure unspotted life : so well, they say,
It govern'd was and guided evermore,
Through wisdom of a matron grave and hore,
Whose only joy was to relieve the needes
Of wretched souls, and help the helpless poor ;
All night she spent in bidding of her beads,
And all the day in do in * good and godly deeds.

Faery Queen.

The next morning, Rutilius was surprised by a visit
from Pamphilus. " Are you come," he said, " to
knpw what I think of your arguments yesterday ?"

" Not so," said Pamphilus ; " I would rather
wait before I hear you decide respecting that which
as yet you cannot fully understand. But business
recalls me to my home at Caesarea ; and I cannot de-
part without making you acquainted with some one
who may satisfy the inquiries which I think that
our conversations will suggest."

" Have you friends here, to whom you can intro-
duce me ?" said Rutilius.

" No personal friends,*' answered the other;
" but you know that we Christians are all brethren,
our great Master, whom, as I have told
I

86 RUTILIUS.

you, we believe to be ever with us, has a deputy in
this city, by whom His presence is especially repre-
sented."

" How is this ?" said the Roman. " I know that
the emperor has a deputy in Syria; but I never
heard of any other governor in these parts."

Pamphilus. " Know you not that Christ's Church
is a kingdom, and that it must therefore have its
officers in all lands ? True, it is a kingdom not of
this world — it does not interfere with worldly power;
but a kingdom it is, as certainly as our boasted
empire. At present our earthly governor is at Nico-
niedia, or wherever else he may please to dwell. The
Ruler of that spiritual empire, of which we are sub-
jects, is likewise in His capital, — a city not made
with hands, eternal in the heavens. The deputies of
the one are known by their lictors and their axes ; —
can you not guess, Rutilius, who are the deputies
of the other ?"

Rutilius. " I suppose you mean the bishops, with-
out whom, as you told me yesterday, your sacred
rites cannot be ministered."

Pamphilus. " Exactly so. In this diocese, Me-
thodius is Christ's deputy, though he owes obedience
to Cyril, the bishop of Antioch, who occupies what
we call the apostolical see, because thither all bi-
shops of the province go for ordination to their apos-
tolic office."

Rutilius. " And to whom does Cyril owe obe-
dience?"

CH. Tin. TWM CnGTLO B&PVI1. £>«

Punpiulas pinnlrd upward. *• Christ has set His
holy Apostles or chief bishops * last of all;* and to
Him only do they owe obedience. 1 "

"Then there are others Kke Cyril T said Ra~
tums.

" In every prornee one," said Patnphflus.
" There is Theonas at fllriandiia fin* the adjoining
country of Egypt ; and others in die West, as at
Carthage and Rome."

" You mean, then, mat Methodius is deputy to
the bishop of Aminrh/* said Itaflios, who felt in-
terested by the laws of this singular kingdom, which
had grown op in the heart of the Roman e mpir e.

" Each bishop is the deputy of Christ," 3
the Christian, ** and lepiesents our Master's
diate presence. This is a primary law of oar sys-
tem, which we have leeerred from the Apostles.
The subordination of ranks among bishops is a rale
of the Church, which has been i ntro du ced by our-
selves, for the sake of greater order."

" Does it not lead to disputes among your spi-
ritual princes ?" said his young companion.

"It has not yet done so," said the other. "There
is no place which has such an undisputed lead, that
its bishop is likely to prevail over others. Had
Jerusalem continued in its ancient splendour, per-
haps it might have been thought to be still the place
of our Master's immediate presence, and its bishop
: have pretended to be chief. 1 This may have
1 This a tnthmrit is cxpm a Hul by St Jennie.

83 RUTILIUS.

been one reason why that doomed city was not
permitted to remain ; and now, though its bishop is
allowed to rank next to Thotecnus, the bishop of
Caesarea, yet it is not the chief even in its own
narrow province."

" But there is the capital city ?" said the Roman.

" You naturally think of Rome," said the other ;
" and, if we were to judge by a worldly standard, its
wealth and power, and the notion which you Romans
have so long possessed, that your city was fated to an
eternal dominion, would go near to introduce divi-
sion among us. But it is not thus that we Christians
decide. We have already a country and a city,
whose builder and maker is God. True, the Church
of Rome has great influence in the West : its mem-
bers are rich and liberal, and its clergy numerous.
I was reading lately a letter which was written by
Cornelius, who was its bishop about forty years ago.
He was writing to Fabius at Antioch, who had the
chief authority in those parts, in order to ask his
assistance against an innovator named Novatus, who
had set up as a rival against him, thus destroying the
unity of Christ's kingdom ; and he said, that at that
time he had under him, in his several churches at
Rome, forty-four priests, seven deacons, as many
subdeacons, ninety-four persons in inferior orders,
who attended in the various churches ; and above
1500 widows and poor persons, who were sustained
by the alms of the congregation."

" What would happen to your empire," asked the

CH. VIII. THB CHRISTIAN DEPUTY. 89

young Roman, with a smile, "if one of these ruling
bishops should turn traitor, and set up for him-
self?"

" The same thing which happens in your worldly
empire," said Pamphilus. " Our King has indeed
given His deputies authority, but only in subordina-
tion to Himself. And the other deputies are charged
to interfere, if one should prove disobedient."

Rutilius. " Has it ever happened ?"

" Did you never hear of Paul of Samosata ?"
asked Pamphilus. " I thought you spoke of An-
tioch as your native place ; and he was deposed from
its bishopric almost within your recollection."

" I remember to have heard the thing men-
tioned," said Rutilius, " though it must have hap-
pened when I was a child. But tell me one thing
more ; — might not all your deputies prove rebellious
together?"

'* This is a case," said Pamphilus, " which our
Master has promised shall never happen. That
some should prove rebels, we are prepared to expect ;
and we have holy Scripture in our hands, by which
we can at once discern if it should happen. But
this will never be the case with all the successors of
the Apostles among us; for Christ has promised,
that He will be with them always, even to the end
of the world."

Rutilius. " Are all your people, then, able to tell
what is the right system from your sacred writings ? \
remember to have been told that Paul of Samosata,
i2

90 EUTILIUS.

of whom you spoke, had completely led away a great
number of simple people from your faith ; and
though they had your sacred writings in their hands,
they did not know their real meaning. Was it not
the case, that there was a great meeting of your
people, and that Paul said he was as right, according
to the Scriptures, as his opponents ?"

Pamphilus. " You have heard, I see, of the coun-
cil of bishops at Antioch. Other persons were pre-
sent, standing round the bishops, who decided. Paul,
as you say, pretended that his explanation of the
Scriptures was the true one. But how easily was
he answered by Malchion, a learned man living in
the diocese, whom the council of bishops called
before them, and ordered to state what grounds of
complaint were felt by the clergy of the place. He
shewed that there could be only one meaning to our
sacred writings; and that one, the meaning which
the first generation of bishops received from the
Apostles ; and what this meaning was, they expressed
in the creed, which we oblige every one to profess
when he is baptised. Their other writings shew
more fully what they thought. But, for men in ge-
neral, the creed and the Church-services are a suffi-
cient commentary to enable them to understand out
holy Scriptures. And so Paul of Samosata found
it : he was deprived of his office, and turned out of
our Church. Indeed, he was a sensual, worldly man,
whose life was as bad as his teaching. They say that
he used all sorts of worldly arts to make himself

GH. VIII. THE CHRISTIAN DEPUTY. 91

highly thought of. He would stamp and strike his
thigh when he was preaching, to astonish our simpler
brethren. Then he took great pride in the state
and pomp of his office. But come with me to Me-
thodius, and you will see a different man."

" Do you know him well ? " said Rutilius.

" I pay him respect as Christ's representative in
this place," said Pamphilus ; " and his habits and
character are altogether Christian. Beyond this
there is no particular agreement between us ; for he
has written against my great master Origen, whom I
am at this moment preparing to defend against his
attacks."

As they moved towards the dwelling of Metho-
dius, Rutilius told his companion that he was not
unlikely to be a visitant in the neighbourhood of
Caesarea. A friend of his father's had been appointed
deputy of the province, and at his father's desire
he had offered to visit his residence. Pamphilus was
pleased at the prospect of seeing his young friend
again. " As to the place you propose to visit," he
said, " if your mind is set on those objects, which
even heathen philosophy professes to reverence, you
will find little there to give you satisfaction. Even
the luxury and license, which prevails in Italy, is
surpassed by the excesses of wealthy Romans when
they come into these eastern countries ; and I have
beard the place you speak of described as an exam-
ple on the small scale of an emperor's court." While
be spoke they reached the dwelling of Methodius.

92 BUTILIUS.

The house was furnished like the dwelling of
citizens of a superior class, though with a studied
abstinence from every thing gaudy or ostentatious.
The chief valuables seemed to be a considerable col-
lection of books, together with some foreign curiosi-
ties, which the naval connexions of Tyre gave oppor-
tunity for collecting.

" My master is engaged in hearing causes, ,, said
the domestic, who shewed them in ; " but he will
shortly visit you."

" You will like," said Pamphilus, " to see what
is the office of a Christian judge ;" — and at his desire
the servant led them where Methodius was deciding
between two parties, who were disputing the inherit-
ance of a relative. 1

" By what authority," asked Rutilius, " does
your bishop act ? "

" He has no authority," replied his companion,
" except the consent of the parties. But we Chris-
tians, instead of carrying our complaints before a
heathen judge, are accustomed to submit to the arbi-
tration of our own community. And, as I have told
you before, our Emperor has his deputy here. What-
ever is done in the Church is done by the bishop."

Methodius was at this moment asking the two
parties whether they agreed to acquiesce in his deci-
sion. " Our Lord," he said, " replied to a person

1 This account of a bishop's occupation is taken from St
Augustine, De Opere Monachorum § 29.

CH. VIII. THE CHRISTIAN DEPUTY. 93

"who was not His disciple, • Man, who made me a
judge or a divider over you V and I claim, therefore,
no civil power by virtue of that spiritual office which
He has given me. For the disciple is not above his
Lord. But die 2 -eat Apostle taught our brethren not
to carry their 1* -putes before the heathen, asking
them how they could ' set them to judge* who were
* least esteemed in the Church.' It has been our cus-
tom, therefore, to agree to act on the Church's deci-
sion, which I, as her officer, have to declare. I shall
judge, of course, according to the best laws which
wise men among the heathen have set forth, taking
into account those principles of right which are given
us in holy Scripture. Do you both agree to ac-
cept my determination?" Both parties promised
submission; and Methodius dismissed them, with an
assurance that he would inform them of his decision
on the following day.

These parties being gone, Pamphilus presented
Rutilius as a person anxious to become acquainted
with the Christian system. u One part of my office,"
said Methodius, " you have seen to-day. I am sorry
to say that it is an office which occupies much time,
which I would gladly reserve for more sacred sub-
jects. But in such a town as this, the questions
which are brought before me are numerous; and
tbey require constant reference to that framework of
Roman law which supplies the best means of decid-
ing common questions."

" If ever our faith should be adopted by princes,"

94 RUT1LIUS.

said Pamphilus, " and the authority which you now
exercise should be publicly recognised, we may ex-
pect to see the bishop's court as regular a part in
the judicial system of the state as the court of the
emperor. But you speak of this as so populous a
place ; — is not its commercial greatness considerably
impaired ? "

" Yes, it is," said Methodius ; " and it is likely,
I think, before long to be altogether lost."

Pamphilus. " On what do you build this expec-
tation ? "

Methodius. " As a citizen, I should say that I build
it on the peculiar advantages possessed by Alexandria,
which for many years has been drawing away our
trade. But, as a Christian, I have weightier grounds :
I see in what has passed a fulfilment of prophecy,
and I anticipate its complete accomplishment."

Rutilius listened with the more attention, because
he remembered that Porphyry had noticed to him
the existence of Tyre as an argument against the
truth of the prophecies of Scripture, by which its
desolation had been predicted.

" It is certainly true," said Pamphilus, " that
the destruction of Tyre is threatened by Ezekiel ;
but some have supposed that the ancient city, which
stood on the continent, was intended ; and undoubt-
edly it never recovered itself after its destruction by
Alexander the Great."

" The prophet's words clearly look further," said
Methodius ; " and to me the circumstances are the

OH. VIII. THE CHRISTIAN DEPUTY. 95

more interesting, as illustrating the manner in which
the prophecies of Scripture are fulfilled. There is
first some event of an outward and immediate na-
ture, which stamps, as it were, a character of authen-
ticity on the prediction, and indicates that its fulfil-
ment is at hand. But together with this external, and,
it might seem, accidental accordance with the words
of Scripture, there is some secret and hidden cause,
which is, in reality, more fit to support the weight
pf the prediction, and which makes itself felt after
long years of forgetfulness. Such is the secret of
Tyre's decay. The capture and sack of the city
by Alexander the Great promised to be a fulfilment
of Ezekiel's words. But Tyre recovered from its
overthrow. The real cause of its destruction is the
rival city, by which the same conqueror cut off the
sources of its wealth, and prepared for its distant
and irretrievable ruin. Thus it is that God's decla-
rations have their consummation ; and so the fall of
the great empire of Rome, which the same Daniel
predicts, though it may seem to some to be fulfilled,
now that Rome has ceased, under our present em-
peror, to be the real capital of the world, will pro
bably be marked by some more complete accom-
plishment."

This conversation was interrupted by the arrival
of a man who desired to speak with Methodius.

"You see the germ of a great system," saidPam-
philus, as their host left them. " Should the Roman
empire fall, as Methodius suggests, what would main-

96 BUTII.IUS.

tain those .principles of law and order, widen it has
been the means of introducing among mankind, but
the circumstance o£ their having been thus en gr aft ed
upon an institution more permanent than the thrones
of the earth V*

Runliua gave no answer : he had moved to the
window to watch what was passing between Metho-
dius and his new applicant. From die poverty of
his dress, and the meanness of bis situation (for it
was obvious that he was a slave), there were proba-
bly but few freemen in Tyre who would have con-
versed with him* Bat in his bishop this poor mm
knew that he had a friend. He was stating the
cruelty of his master, who had threatened him with
die cruel severities of the ergastoUum* or house of
correction, for disobedient slaves, in consequence of
his having become a Christian. " And yet," said the
poor man, " I have given him no cause lor com-
plaint. I have rendered him the more zealous obe-
dience, since I have known that there is a hope for
me after this miserable life is over ; and since I hare
had friends, who, bespite my ignorance and penary,
are ready to receive me as their equal."*

Methodius's answer could not be distinctly heard :
but it was obvious that he was suggesting motives
for patience and submission; reminding the slave
mat he was Christ's freed man-; and exhorting him
rather to submit to his master's injustice, than, by
any attempt to escape, to bring a w*fr»i upon die

CH. VIII. THE CHRISTIAN DEPUTY. 97

" Why do not you seek to buy the freedom of
such poor people?" said Rutilius to his compa-
nion.

" It is often done," answered Pamphilus ; " and
our Church is constantly advancing towards the de-
struction of this oppressive system of slavery. But
we should gain too many insincere followers, if we
were to employ our Church's funds on the enfran-
chisement of all who would fly to us for sanctuary ;
and our early bishop, Ignatius, expressly discoun-
tenanced the practice."

" Do you forbid your people to have slaves,
then?" said the other. "I thought you had one
yourself, — Porphyry, whom I saw with you yester-
day ; and whom, I suppose, you have named after
the great philosopher."

" Do you think, Rutilius, that I should have
named him after that enemy of our faith ? No ; I
honour those who are trply the benefactors of man-
kind — the apostles and martyrs, who have shed their
blood to secure to us the knowledge of immortality.
Porphyry, I grant, may be a clever man ; but what
great benefit has he conferred upon his fellows ?
As to my slave, he was brought up in my family,
and had his name from a child. And he is an in-
stance of the manner in which our faith works for
the good of men in his situation. He goes with me
to our house of prayer ; he partakes with me in
our holy communion ; I exchange the kiss of peace

K

98 RUTILIUS.

with him as readily as with the greatest man in our
city; I confess him to be of the same blood with
myself, to have the same hope, to be in my Mas-
ter's sight of the same value : and how is it possible
that I could treat as a slave him whom I acknowledge
as a brother ? At present he stays with me willingly;
and at my death he will be freed by my will, unless,
in these threatening times, he should be called to
suffer martyrdom, which I doubt not that he would
undergo as readily as I should."

So said Pamphilus, with a sort of anticipation —
such as was at that time entertained, not unnaturally,
by every Christian — of the probable conclusion of his
course. He could scarcely have any more belief
than his companion had, that the name of his ser-
vant Porphyry was destined to be preserved with
his own in the Church's annals, by being blended in
the glory of the same martyrdom. 1

The poor slave was now going away, apparently
consoled by having met with a kindness and sym-
pathy, for which he might have sought elsewhere in
vain through the vast city. Rutilius would gladly
have entered into further conversation with Metho-
dius, but a fresh party of poor people came in to so-
licit the bishop's advice. As he looked round upon

1 The martyrdom of Pamphilus and his servant Porphyry
is recorded by Eusebms in his work on the Martyrs of Pales-
tine, cap. xi.

CH. VIII. THE CHRISTIAN DEPUTY. 99

them, in leaving the house with Pamphilus, he could
not help feeling that it was the Christian deputy
who understood the true secret of opening a home
for the afflicted.

CHAPTER IX.

8- ttoman FCUa. $f>r Beauts of t|e (Emperor.
$f)e JfcOmiflfct gUfttmfcUgr.

Hence, vain, deluding joys !
The brood of folly, without father bred :
How little you bested %

Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys !

Come, pensive nun, devout and pure.
Sober, stedfast, and demure ;
All in a robe of darkest grain,
Plowing with majestic train.

UPetueroso.

A few days after the departure of Pamphilus, Ruti-
lius received an invitation to visit his father's friend
in the neighbourhood of Cse&area. ' His compliance
was the more ready, because he felt that it would
afford an opportunity for renewing his intercourse
with Pamphilus. He had heard much also of Milo's
magnificent hospitality ; and was not without curio-
sity to see what was meant by the fascinating charms
of an Asiatic villa. 1 He arrived on the second day
after leaving Tyre ; and on his way heard of nothing
so much as the sumptuousness of the place which
he was about to visit. Not far from the house he

1 The following description of the mode of life at a Roman
villa is borrowed from Petronius's account of Nero.

CH. IX. THE EMFEROB'S DEPUTY. 101

found a tennis-court, where Milo was at the time
amusing himself. The great man was attended
by a number of youths, whose long hair reached
nearly to their girdles ; while at the end of the court
stood an attendant with a large silver bowl of water
to be' ready for his refreshment : Milo would occasion-
ally call him, and dipping his hands in water, dry
them on the hair of the attendant pages. The whole
place, and the persons who were in waiting, spoke
of a softness and effeminacy which disgusted Ruti-
lius, the more when, passing through it to an adjoin-
ing door of the house, he saw inscribed on a tablet,
which hung on a pillar at the side, — " Every servant
who goes out without his masters permission shall
receive a hundred lashes. 1 *

" Such," said the young man, " is the marriage of
license and of servitude. Thus is oppression the
next neighbour to luxury and sloth." The paint-
ings which covered the walls of the court, which he
now entered, were, in like manner, a singular contrast
to one another. On one side there were various
pictures of heathen gods, — the figure of Milo, the host
of the place, being singularly mixed with them;
here he was entering Rome in a triumphal car, con-
ducted by Minerva ; there Mercury was lifting him
up by the chin, and placing him upon a lofty tribu-
nal. Rutilius was at no loss to understand what
was meant by the introduction of these patron deities
— that Milo's learning was implied to have introduced
him to notice in the Capitol, and his eloquence to have
k %

102 RUTILIUS.

raised him to the judgment-seat. No less significant
was the figure of Fortune, which stood by him on one
side with a cornucopia, to express the abundance of
his wealth ; while on the other were the three Fates,
spinning a golden thread, as an emblem of his good
fortune. But there were other circumstances of a
personal nature depicted ; his being taught to reckon ;
his being appointed treasurer : and as the artist who
had executed the designs was less remarkable for his
skill than his Mattery, their meaning was obligingly
explained by suitable inscriptions. *

Rutilius was not less amused by all this parade
in praise of a person, who, he knew, had no claims to
distinction, except from the accidents of birth and for-
tune, than by the puerile device which he saw joined
to it : the figure of a great dog, painted close by the
corner of the porter's lodge, and surmounted by an
inscription, in great letters,- -"Take care of the
dog." The animal was drawn naturally enough ; and
as it was so placed that on entering you came upon
it on a sudden, the servant who carried Rutilius's ef-
fects, and who was looking in another direction when
he approached, was so scared, that he nearly broke
his neck in starting out of the way. All this was
laughable enough ; but it was painfully contrasted
with the opposite side of the court, on which might
be seen the picture of a slave- market. There the
native Syrian or Paphlagonian thrall ; the Scythian
or Goth captured in war, and carried into a distant
captivity, — contrasted with the peculiar features of the

err. i*. the emperor's deputy. 103

negro ; while round the neck of each were labels
indicating their prices. Rutilius's own feelings re-
volted at this contrast between his host's overgorged
prosperity, and the misery of so many of his fellow-
creatures ; and the spectacle reminded him of what
he had heard from Pamphilus — that all men were in
truth brethren ; that slavery was a state which, in-
stead of being paraded as an accession to the splen-
dour of the few, ought to be deplored as a fearful
consequence, of the degradation of the many ; and that
the extension of the Christian faith would lead to its
total abolition.

It was just supper- time ; and Rutilius, after he
bad bathed, entered the principal apartment; a lad,
whose office it was, calling out as he crossed the
threshold, — " Your right foot forwards :" lest he
should enter in an unlucky manner. The feast
which followed partook of the overwrought luxury
of the period. Not only was there such profuse
abundance as to pall upon the most unrestrained
appetite, but every device was adopted to prolong
the pleasure of the feast, and provoke the languid
palate.

Rutilius could not help feeling how much the
habits of the age had degenerated from that simple
elegance which breathed through the drinking-song
of Horace :

■' I hate the Persian banquet's pride :
Boy, fling those gaudy wreaths aside,
No linden knot for me

104 RUTILIUS.

Nor seek in what lone dell the rose,
The last of summer, ling'ring blows —
It fits nor me nor thee.

Add not a leaf— 'tis my command —
Well suits thy brow the myrtle band ;

And well its simple braid
Becomes thy master ; where the vine
Delights a leafy screen to twine,

Carousing in the shade." 1

This feeling was not abated, when, after various
other dishes had been brought up and dismissed, he
saw a boar of vast size placed upon the table. It
had an appropriate carver, in a man dressed like a
hunter ; but no sooner had he struck his wood-knife
into it, than out started a number of blackbirds,
which were caught by fowlers who stood around
with their reeds, and presented afterwards to the dif-
ferent guests. Various interludes of the same sort
occurred ; and during the intervals their host plied
the company with Falernian wine. The bottles were
plastered over, and labelled — " Falernian, a hundred
years old,"

On seeing the inscription, Milo cried out, " Alas,
that wine should endure longer than those who drink
it. But since so it is, let us drink while we may."
While he was speaking, a servant brought in a silver
skeleton, so ingeniously constructed that it would
turn every way. A person who lay on the couch

1 From the translation of Horace's Lyrics by Archdeacon
Wrangham.

CH. IX. THE EMPSROR'8 DEPUTY. 105

near Rutilius whispered to him some lines of Lu-
cretius,

" So when the jolly blades with garlands crowned
Sit down to drink, while frequent healths go round,
Some looking grave, this observation make,
All the delights are short we men can take."

Creech's Lucretius.

But with Milo none of these things were valuable,
except as they ministered to his personal gratifica-
tion. He had no perception of the meaning of this
custom, which his countrymen had borrowed from
the ancient Egyptians, nor any taste for the classical
application which had been made of it by the Roman
poets. When he had satisfied his appetite, he could
speak only about his wealth and consequence, and
began to tell his guests what he purposed to do with
all his riches. An inventory of his estates and slaves
was read : then he ordered his will to be brought,
and stated what kind of monument he thought of
erecting. " There shall be a sun-dial in the midst
of it," he said, " that nobody may be able to tell
what o'clock it is without reading my name. How-
ever," he added, " there is time enough to see about
this, for my diviner tells me I may reckon for cer-
tain on thirty years more." While he was talking,
a boy happened to drop a cup ; " You are growing
careless," said Milo, turning to him ; " go out di-
rectly, and kill yourself."

Rutilius, who knew what absolute power over
the life of his slaves was possessed by this vain and

106 RUTILIUS.

sensual man, was afraid that the sentence would be
carried into effect ; but perhaps it was only threat-
ened, that Milo might yield to the intercession, which
was immediately made to him by the surrounding
guests.

When the feast had in this manner been prolonged
much beyond midnight, the sudden entrance of a
body of fresh visitors gave Rutilius an opportunity
of slipping out of the hall ; but as the drunken up-
roar which still filled the castle made rest at present
hopeless, he sought for quiet in some neighbouring
ruins, which he had observed as he entered in the even-
ing. Turning immediately after he left the gate, he
skirted the high wall of Milo's residence ; and a few
minutes brought him to what had evidently been the
remains of some very extensive building. Herod
the Great he rknew had raised vast works in this
neighbourhood; and these ruins seemed, from their
style, to belong to that period. A narrow valley
conducted to them from the opposite side, while
behind they abutted upon the grounds of Milo,
which, rising considerably higher, enabled Rutilius
without much difficulty to reach their summit. There
was no moon; but the bright starlight enabled him
to see into some vast halls which lay without roof
below, divided only by crumbling walls; and the
luxuriant growth of flowers and shrubs, which co-
vered them so thick that the night-breeze could not
shake off the dew, testified to their utter desertion.
Once, no doubt these mansions had resounded to the

CH. IX. THE MIDNIGHT ASSEMBLAGE. 107

i

same mad cries which were still occasionally to be
heard from the dwelling of Milo. Now luxury and
pride had done their work. The sated Epicurean had
ceased from his enjoyments. Nothing but the lurking
jackal tenanted these lordly chambers. Rutilius sat
down on an eminence to enjoy the beauty of the
scene, and felt how much more attractive are sober
and serious thoughts, even though they may be tinged
with melancholy, than that crackling of thorns in
which fools delight.

While these reflexions were passing through his
mind, and he was wondering how it was that his
countrymen could find any thing to please them in
the gross and sordid sensuality which he had this
evening witnessed, his attention was suddenly caught
by the passage of many persons along the valley
which conducted towards the ruins. They evidently
seemed to be approaching the building from a side
opposite to that from which he had reached it. He
recollected what he had heard of the secret orgies of
the Syrian priests, commonly carried on in secluded
woods and caverns, where abominations which the
censors had capitally punished at Rome were known
to be still perpetrated. Such were the rites of
Venus, by which a large number of priests and
priestesses were supported in a dark grove near
the city of Aphaca, a little to the northward. Not
doubting that he should witness something of the
same sort, Rutilius crept silently along' a wall which
led towards the opposite part of 'the building. Remem-

108 RUTILIUS.

bering tlie two Acarnanians who were torn to pieces
by the mob at Athens, as Livy relates, for intruding
upon the mysteries of Ceres, he felt that it would be
in the utmost degree dangerous to be discovered;
but though he expected to see nothing but some still
more disgusting spectacle than that which he had
lately witnessed, yet he could not resist the curiosity
he felt to know the worst of those abominations,
amongst which he was living.

Thus actuated, he gained a window which was
nearly stopped up, and which seemed to lead into the
place to which he had seen persons coming. It looked
into an extensive chamber, which, though standing in
the midst of the ruins, had been more' substantially
built than the rest ; for a large portion of the roof was
entire, and the walls and doorways were uninjured.
Entering by this window, Rutilius found himself upon
a narrow ledge, which terminated in a small recess in
the wall, about twenty feet from the floor of the apart-
ment. At the very moment of his reaching it, two men
appeared, each bearing a light, which they placed on
a great stone slab at one end. They were followed
by a large body of persons, consisting, as he expected,
of both sexes. For a few moments after their en-
trance they seemed to be crouching on the ground
in ranks opposite to each other, the men on one side,
the women on the other. He imagined that they
must be preparing for some bacchanalian scene ; and
concealing himself, so as not to be visible, he tried
to discover what sacrifice they were designing, and

CH. IX. THE MIDNIGHT ASSEMBLAGE. 109

who were the ministering priests. But he could
discern nothing ; and the walls were not ornamented,
as was usual in heathen temples, either with pictures
or statues. The only decoration consisted of chaplets
of flowers, and of a few leafy boughs of trees, which
were tastefully arranged round the pillars of the
building. While he was making his observations,
both parties rose up at once, and, without moving
from their places, began, in a distinct tone and in
alternate portions, to sing the following words : ]

" Men. O God, Thou art my God ; early will I
seek Thee.

Women. My soul thirsteth for Thee; my flesh
also longeth after Thee in a barren and dry land,
where no water is.

M. Thus have I looked for Thee in holiness,
that I might behold Thy power and glory.

W. For Thy loving-kindness is better than the
life itself, my lips shall praise Thee.

M. As long as I live will 1 magnify Thee in this
manner, and lift up my hands in Thy name.

W. My soul shall be satisfied, even as it were
with marrow and fatness, when my mouth praiseth
Thee with joyful lips.

M. Have I not remembered Thee on my bed,
and thought upon Thee when I was waking ?

W. Because Thou hast been my helper, there-
fore under the shadow of Thy wings will I rejoice.

1 For the use of this Psalm, and for what follows, vide Bing-
ham's Antiquities, book xiii.

L

110 RTJTILIUB.

M. My soul hangeth upon Thee : Thy right hand
hath upholden me.

W. Those also that seek the hurt of my soul,
they shall go under the earth.

M. Let them fall upon the edge of the sword,
that they may be a portion for foxes.

W. But the king shall rejoice in God ; all they
also that swear by Him shall be commended : but
the mouth of them that speak lies shall be stopped."

The words ceased, but not their effect upon the
mind of Rutilius. He was sufficiently acquainted
with the language of the Christians to feel assured
that it must be one of their assemblies, of which he
was so unexpectedly the observer. And it was for
this that they separated themselves from the license
and festivity of the heathen world, that they might
retire into recesses where no eye but their Master's
was privy to their deeds, and there, in these solemn,
ennobling strains, hold intercourse with those reali-
ties, with a view to which they only of mankind
seemed to be living. What a contrast were these
sounds to the senseless uproar of Milo's guests, of
which some faint echo might still be heard, as they
staggered forth from their scene of revelry I Here
were men abridging their bodily rest, that the
cravings of their immortal nature might be the
better satisfied; — there the sensual being so pre-
vailed over the spiritual, that men seemed degraded
to a lower level than the beasts. To which party
should he attach himself? Which was most conge-

CH. IX. THE MIDNIGHT ASSEMBLAGE. Ill

nial to his nobler feelings? Rutilius had heard
much before which had diminished his prejudices
against the Christians; but nothing had won upon
his heart so much as the contrast between self-in-
dulgence and self-restraint, — between heathen excess
and Christian mortification, — which this night had
brought before him.

But the singing began again. Words of the same
nature with those which he had heard were chanted
at intervals, sometimes by the whole assembly to-
gether, sometimes, as at first, by the men and women
alternately. There were occasional intervals, during
which all stood in silence; and from their manner
Rutilius inferred that, as when he had at first become
a witness of their conduct, they were engaged in
secret prayer.

At length, after an interval of this sort, a man of
grave appearance ascended a raised seat, which stood
near the centre of the building, but somewhat further
from that side where the lights l were placed, so that
it did not seem easy for him to read, as he proceeded
to do, from a large roll, which he carried in his hands.
The people now sat in silence, except that when he

1 The custom of having lights upon the altar is first men-
tioned, so far as the Western Church is concerned, by Paulinus
of Nola, in the fifth century, Nat. 3. 8. Felicis ; but it is to be
expected that the analogy of the Jewish worship would intro-
duce them sooner in Palestine. The lighting of candles at the
reading of the gospel is mentioned by St. Jerome as charac-
teristic of the Eastern Church, — contra Vigil § 3.

112 RUTILItTS.

began by saying, " Peace be with you," they answer-
ed, with one consent, " And with thy spirit." He
then proclaimed, with a loud voice, " Thus saith the
Lord;" on which a person, who seemed to be in
attendance upon him, replied in like manner, " Let
us give attention." From these words Rutilius sup-
posed that the book which he heard was some part
of the Christian sacred writings ; and from the al-
lusions which it contained to the Jewish people, he
referred it to the Old Testament This was shortly
followed by the reading of a second portion, at the
commencement of which many lamps were lighted
throughout the assembly, and the whole body of
people rose up and stood. This passage related to
the history of our Lord; and it was followed by a
third, which commenced with the words, " I will thai,
first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and
giving of thanks, be made for all men." Rutilius's
attention was particularly drawn to these expressions
by a reverend person, whose manner evidently pointed
him out as chief man in the assembly. Ascending a
raised step, in front of the large stone table, on which
lights had from the first been burning, after having
saluted the people much in the same manner as he
who read the lesson, he spoke thus, respecting the
force and application of these words.

" In this epistle," he said, " St. Paul has taught
us in what manner we should begin our public
prayers. You know to whom he spoke. He wrote
thus to Timothy, because on him, as bishop of Ephe-

CH IX. THE MIDNIGHT ASSEMBLAGE. 113

sus, devolved the duty of setting forth public prayer.
In like manner, I, my brethren, who speak in this
place as Christ's apostle, have followed the order
which my predecessors have left me in the ordering
of your public devotions. First, we have the prayers
for those who are not yet received into the Church.
Then come prayers for those whom Satan vexes, or
who have fallen into sin. These three orders, — our
catechumens, those who are afflicted by visitations
of Satan, and the penitents, — are first prayed for, be-
cause they are compelled to depart before the faithful
draw near to the sacred mysteries. These things
ended, come those most holy rites, which such of
you as have taken your part in Christ's mystic
body understand. And here it is that the injunctions
of holy Paul are literally obeyed. We pray for all
our rulers, whom God has raised up to bear sway on
the earth ; for mankind at large ; but most for Christ's
whole flock, and for those who partake in His holy
sacraments. And these prayers we offer when our
Lord Himself is mystically lying upon the altar, —
when we come, therefore, with most assurance that
our prayers shall, through Christ, be accepted, and
that we have a right to draw near as members of
His body.

" Consider for whom we pray — for Christ's whole
flock ; not merely for those who are still militant
among us, but for all who are at rest, because they
have departed in His faith and fear. What manner
of blessings they may be capable of, we know not, or
l %

1 14 RUTILIUS.

how they may profit by our prayers ; but as we have
been taught to supplicate for Christ's whole body,
whether here or elsewhere, therefore we make them
partakers of our intercession. And, in like manner,
we pray for all the heathen world : we entreat for
its conversion. We pray for our persecutors; for
those who never pray for themselves ; for those who
are ignorant of their wants.

" And here let me shew you, my brethren, one
chief object of our meeting, as we this night do, with
solemn prayer and fasting, to supplicate for the hea-
then world. You know who hath said, ' Ye are the
light of the world.' And again it is spoken, * We
know that we are of God, and the whole world lieth
in wickedness.' And you know what wickedness
fills the earth. You know how lust, rapine, and
cruelty prevail; how men are sunk in selfishness.
You know that the sins of the heathen are not merely
committed through the overpowering strength of
temptation, but are commanded by their superstition,
and sanctioned by their laws. This is the universal
picture — ( the whole head is sick, and the whole
heart faint.' Now by what means can we do our
Master's work in so wayward a generation? Will
common efforts prevail ? Will common exhortations
reform them? No; they need some stronger im-
pulse. If we would be the means through which
God's grace may find occasion to work in them, we
must offer up ourselves a willing sacrifice, that so
our example may be a warning which may strike

CH. IX. THE MIDNIGHT ASSEMBLAGE. 115

conviction to their careless souls. We must shew
them that we possess a secret more attractive than
riot or lust, and able to exercise a stronger influence
over the heart of man than even the common wants
of his nature. This is your task, ye holy virgins,
who, unbound by any outward constraint, give your-
selves up daily afresh to your heavenly Bridegroom.
In other days, you might perhaps not think your-
selves called upon to consecrate yourselves so imme-
diately to the altar. But in the midst of this heathen
world, when all men are bent professedly on their
own pleasure, how could you so clearly testify that
there is something real besides that which men be-
hold, and that in it is the true purpose of our being ?
This it is which your devotion testifies, — a devotion
which, being more entire than that of others, is more
acceptable to Him who reads the heart. Therefore
it is that over your place in this assembly ] ^ou have
the inscription written : * There is a difference be-
tween a wife and a virgin. The unmarried woman
careth for the things of the Lord, that she may be
holy both in body and in spirit/ See only that you
be not proud of this distinction, lest, being puffed up,
you fall into Satan's snare*

" The same may I say, in general, of our ascetics.
Their self-denial is more needful in this our age,
that the salt may not lose its savour. The heathen

1 This circumstance is mentioned by St. Ambrose, — ad
Virgin. Laps,

116

RUTILIUS.

require the efficacy of a great example. They need
to be taught, by your conduct, how vain are those
objects which besot their sensual minds. Therefore
against their days of mirth we set our nights of devo-
tion, — our fasts against their festivals, — our patience
against their oppression, — our solitary life against
their licentiousness, — that they may understand what
can be done by men in whom Christ dwells by His
Spirit, and what is the purity of that freedom which
was purchased by the sacrifice of His blood."

After this address, which Rutilius heard with the
more interest, because it so corresponded with his
own train of thought, proclamation was made aloud
by the same person who had previously been in attend-
ance on the reader, " Let no hearer, let no unbeliever
be present;" and immediately afterwards, " Pray, ye
catechumens ; and let all the faithful pray with them
earnestly, saying, The Lord have mercy upon them."
Rutilius felt that this command was intended to ex-
clude him ; and he drew back as far as the recess
which he had entered would allow him : but it was
impossible for him to escape without passing in front
of the whole body of worshippers, and he was com-
pelled therefore to remain, in a position in which he
could not but hear and see what was passing. After
the departure of the catechumens and some others,
he heard a similar proclamation respecting penitents ;
and after a prayer offered in their behalf, the follow-
ing words were pronounced by the same person who
had preached the sermon : —

CH. IX. THE MIDNIGHT ASSEMBLAGE. 117

" O Almighty and Eternal God, 1 the Lord of the
whole world, the Maker and Governor of all things,
who hast made man to be an ornament of the world,
through Christ, and hast given him both a natural
and a written law, that he might live by the rules
thereof, as a reasonable creature; that hath also,
when he had sinned, given him a motive and encou-
ragement to repent, even Thy own goodness ; look
down upon these men, who bow their souls and
bodies unto Thee : for Thou desirest not the death
of a sinner, but that he should repent, and turn from
his evil way, and live. Thou that acceptedst the
repentance of the Ninevites; that wouldst have all
men to be saved, and to come to the knowledge of
the truth; that receivedst again the prodigal son,
who had spent his substance in riotous living, with
the compassionate bowels of a father, because of his
repentance, — accept now the repentance of these
Thy suppliants ; for there is no man that sinneth not
against Thee. If Thou, Lord, wilt mark what is
done amiss, O Lord, who may abide it ? for there is
mercy and propitiation with Thee. Restore them to
Thy holy Church in their former dignity and honour,
through Christ our Lord and Saviour, by whom be
glory and adoration unto Thee, in the Holy Ghost,
world without end. Amen."

This prayer concluded, 2 it seemed that those de-

1 From the Apostolical Constitutions.
3 In what follows, besides the Apostolical Constitutions, and
other original authorities, Bingham's Antiquities, b. xiii xiv.

118 RUTILIUS.

parted who were not permitted to join in the full
worship of the Church ; and the service proceeded,
conducted principally by the chief minister or bishop,
as Rutilius rightly deemed him to be, and the attend-
ants or deacons.

" Bishop. I will wash my hands in innocency,
and so will I compass Thine altar.

Deacon. Let none who may not partake in this
service remain.

Let none have aught against any one.

Salute one another with an holy kiss."

Here those who were adjoining saluted one an-
other, the men the men, the women the women.
Rutilius thought he saw a reason why the places of
men and women were distinct.

" Bishop. The peace of God be with you all.

People. And with thy spirit.

Deacon. Let us present our offerings to the Lord
with reverence and godly fear."

After an interval, during which persons seemed
to approach that part of the building where the bishop
was standing, apparently bringing something as offer-
ings, he proceeded :

" The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the
peace of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost,
be with you all.

People. And with thy spirit.

Bishop. Lift up your hearts.

and xv. | and Bishop Rattray's version of the Liturgy of the
Ancient Church of Jerusalem, have been principally employed.

CH. IX. THE MIDNIGHT ASSEMBLAGE. 119

People. We lift them up unto the Lord.

Bishop. Let us give thanks unto the Lord God.

People. It is meet and right so to do.

Bishop. It is very meet, right, and our bounden
duty, that we should at all times, and in all places,
give thanks unto Thee, O Lord, holy Father, almighty
everlasting God. Therefore with angels and arch-
angels, and with all the company of heaven, we laud
and magnify Thy holy name, evermore praising Thee,
and saying —

Bishop and People. Holy, holy, holy, Lord God
of hosts; heaven and earth are full of Thy glory;
glory be to Thee, O Lord most high.

Bishop. Holy art Thou, O eternal King, and the
Giver of all holiness; holy is Thine only-begotten
Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom Thou madest
the world ; holy also is Thy Holy Spirit, who search-
eth all things, even the depths of Thee, O God ; holy
art Thou, who rulest over all, almighty and good
God — terrible, yet full of compassion, but espe-
cially indulgent to the workmanship of Thy own
hands; for Thou didst make man, formed out of
the earth, after Thy own image, and graciously gavest
him the enjoyment of Paradise. And when he had
lost his happiness by transgressing Thy command-
ment, Thou of Thy goodness didst not despise or
abandon him, but didst discipline him as a merciful
Father, and train him up by the tuition of the law
and the prophets ; and, last of all, Thou didst send
Thine only-begotten Son, our Lord Jesus Christ,

120 RUTIL1US.

into the world, that by His coming He might renew
Thy image in us ; who descended from heaven, and
was incarnate by the Holy Ghost of the Virgin Mary,
conversed with mankind, and directed His whole
dispensation to our salvation. And when the hour
was come, that He who had no sin was to suffer
a voluntary and life-giving death upon the cross for
us sinners, in the same night that He was betrayed,
or rather offered up Himself for the life and salvation
of the world, taking bread into His holy and spot-
less hands [taking the paten in his hand], looking up
to heaven, and presenting it to Thee, His God and
Father, He gave thanks, sanctified and brake it
[breaking the bread], and gave it to His disciples,
saying, Take, eat ; this is My body [laying his hands
upon the bread], which is broken and given for you,
for the remission of sins.

In like manner, after supper, He took the cup
[taking the cup into his hands] ; and having mixed
it of wine and water, He gave thanks, sanctified
and blessed it, and gave it to His disciples, saying,
Drink ye all of this : this is My blood [laying his
hands on the vessel of wine] of the new testament,
which is shed and given for you and for many,
for the remission of sins : do this in remembrance
of Me.

Wherefore, in commemoration of His life-giving
passion, salutary cross, death, burial, and resurrec-
tion from the dead on the third day, His ascension
into heaven, and sitting at the right hand of Thee,

CH. IX. THE MIDNIGHT ASSEMBLAGE. 121

His God and Father, and looking for His second
glorious and terrible advent, when He shall come
again with glory to judge the quick and the dead,
and shall render to every one according to his works,
— we sinners offer to Thee, O Lord, this awful and
bloodless sacrifice, beseeching Thee, that Thou
wouldst not deal with us after our sins, nor reward
us after our iniquities; but, according to Thy cle-
mency and ineffable love to mankind, overlooking
and blotting out the handwriting that is against Thy
servants, wouldest grant us Thy heavenly and eter-
nal good things ; for Thy people and Thine inherit-
ance make their supplications unto Thee. Have
mercy upon us, O Lord God almighty Father, have
mercy upon us, according to Thy great mercy ; and
send down Thy Holy Spirit upon us all, and upon
these gifts which are here set before Thee, that by
His descent upon them, He may make this bread
[laying his hands upon the bread] the holy body of
Thy Christ, and this cup [laying his hands upon the
vessel of wine"} the precious blood of Thy Christ ;
that they may be, to all who partake of them, for
the sanctification of soul and body, for bringing forth
the fruit of good works, for remission of sins, and
for life everlasting.

We offer to Thee, O Lord, for Thy Holy Ca-
tholic and Apostolic Church throughout the whole
world ; do Thou now also plentifully furnish her with
the rich gifts of Thy Spirit Look down upon her
in her captivity; O visit her once more with Thy

122 RUTILIU8.

salvation, and bring her out to serve Thee in the
beauty of holiness.

Remember, O Lord, the holy bishops in Thy
Church, especially me, Thine unworthy servant ;
endow them with wisdom, and 611 them with the Holy
Ghost, that they may rightly divide, and uprightly
walk in the word of truth.

Remember, O Lord, according to the multitude
of Thy mercies and compassions, all the priests and
deacons who compass Thy holy altar; grant to them
an unblameable priesthood, and preserve them un-
spotted in their ministry.

Remember, O Lord, all kings and princes whom
Thou hast appointed to reign upon the earth, and
especially Thy servants our emperors, Dioclesian and
Maximin, with the Caesars ; establish their kingdoms
in peace, and incline their hearts to be favourable to
Thy Church, that in their tranquillity we may lead
a quiet and peaceable life, in all godliness and
honesty.

Remember, O Lord, this diocese, and every city
and country, with all the faithful that dwell in them ;
preserve them in peace and safety.

Remember, O Lord, our Christian brethren that
travel by sea or land, or are in foreign countries,
that are in chains or imprisonment, that are in capti-
vity or banishment, in the mines, or in hard slavery.

Remember, O Lord, those that are sick and
diseased, or afflicted by evil spirits, and make haste
to heal and deliver them.

CU. IX. THE MIDNIGHT ASSEMBLAGE. 123

Remember, O Lord, every Christian soul under
affliction and calamity, and all who stand in need of
Thy divine mercy and help.

Remember also the conversion of them that be
in error.

Remember all, O Lord, for good ; have mercy
upon all, O Lord ; be reconciled to us all ; settle
the flocks of Thy people in peace ; remove all scan-
dals; make wars to cease; put a stop to the vio-
lence of heresies ; heal the schisms of the Churches ;
and grant us Thy peace and love, O God our Sa-
viour, and the hope of all the ends of the earth.

Remember, O Lord, to grant us temperate wea-
ther, moderate showers, pleasant dews, and plenty
of the fruits of the earth ; and to bless the whole
circle of the year with Thy goodness ; for the eyes
of all hope in Thee, and Thou givest them food in
due season; Thou openest Thine hand, and fillest
every living creature with Thy gracious bounty.

Remember, O Lord, all who bring forth fruit
and do good works in Thy holy Churches, and who
are mindful of the poor, the widows, the orphans,
strangers, and indigent persons, and all who desire
to be remembered in our prayers.

Vouchsafe also, O Lord, to remember those who
have this day offered their oblations at Thy holy
altar, and those for whom every one has offered.

And grant that we may all find mercy and favour
with all Thy saints, who from the beginning of the
world have pleased Thee in their several genera-

124 RUTILIUS.

tions; patriarchs, prophets, apostles, martyrs, and
every just spirit made perfect in the faith of Thy
Christ.

Remember, O Lord, the God of the spirits of all
flesh, those whom we have remembered, and those
whom we have not remembered, from righteous Abel
even unto this day ; do Thou give them rest in the
regions of the living, in the bosoms of our holy fa-
thers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, where sorrow,
grief, and lamentation, are banished away — where
the light of Thy countenance visits and shines con-
tinually ; and vouchsafe to bring them and us to the
full enjoyment of Thy heavenly kingdom ; and dis-
pose the end of our lives in peace, that they may be
Christian, well-pleasing to Thee, and free from sin,
through Thy only-begotten Son, our Lord, and God,
and Saviour, Jesus Christ ; for He alone appeared
without spot upon the earth ; through whom and with
whom Thou art blessed and glorified, together with
Thy Holy Spirit, now and ever, world without end.

People. Amen.

Bishop and People. Our Father, which art in hea-
ven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give
us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our tres-
passes, as we forgive them that trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation ; but deliver us from
evil. Amen.

Bishop {turning to the people). Peace be with
you all.

CH. IX. THE MIDNIGHT ASSEMBLAGE. 125

People. And with thy spirit.

Deacon. Let us bow our heads unto the Lord.

Bishop {turning to the altar). We Thy servants,
Lord, bow down our necks to Thee, before Thy
holy altar, in expectation of Thy rich mercies. Send
down upon us, O Lord, Thine abundant grace and
benediction ; and sanctify our souls and bodies, that
we may be made worthy to be communicants and
partakers of Thy holy mysteries, for the remission
of our sins, and for life everlasting ; for to Thee our
God belong adoration and glory, and to Thy only-
begotten Son, and Holy Spirit, now and for ever.
Amen.

Bishop. Grace be with you all.

People. And with thy spirit.

Deacon. Let us attend in the fear of God.

Bishop. Holy things for holy persons.

People. There is one holy, one Lord Jesus Christ,
to the glory of God the Father ; to whom be glory for
ever."

Then the bishop knelt before the altar, and, with
the reverent manner of one who was handling holy
things, eat and drank of the bread and wine which he
had consecrated. Then rising, he gave in like manner
to him who had read the Scriptures, and to the dea-
cons, saying with a low voice to each as he delivered
the bread,

"The body of Christ;"
and as he delivered the cup,

"The blood of Christ;"
m 2

126 AUTILIU8.

which words he had also used when he himself re-
ceived. And the person receiving answered on each
occasion, " Amen."

As soon as these persons had received, they arose,
and in like manner gave the bread and wine to each
of the congregation, both men and women, who drew
near in order and knelt near the altar. Those who
administered seemed to speak to each person the same
words as had been pronounced towards themselves ;
but they spoke in such a suppressed tone as to be
scarcely audible, though the " Amen" of the re-
ceiver could be distinctly heard. Meanwhile those
who were not receiving sung the following words
with a low voice :

" I will alway give thanks unto the Lord; His
praise shall ever be in my mouth.

My soul shall make her boast of the Lord ; the
humble shall hear thereof, and be glad.

praise the Lord with me, and let us magnify
His name together.

1 sought the Lord, and He heard me ; yea, He
delivered me out of all my fear.

They had an eye unto Him, and were lightened ;
and their faces were not ashamed.

Lo, the poor crieth, and the Lord heareth him ;
yea, and saveth him out of all his troubles.

The angel of the Lord tarrieth round about them
that fear Him, and delivereth them.

taste and see how gracious the Lord is; blessed
is the man that trusteth in Him.

CH. IX. THE MIDNIGHT ASSEMBLAGE. 127

The lions do lack and suffer hunger; but they
who seek the Lord shall want no manner of thing
that is good.

Come, ye children, and hearken unto me : I will
teach you the fear of the Lord.

What man is he that lusteth to live, and would
fain see good days ?

Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips that they
speak no guile.

Eschew evil, and do good ; seek peace, and en-
sue it.

The eyes of the Lord are over the righteous,
and His ears are open unto their prayers.

The countenance of the Lord is against them that
do evil, to root out the remembrance of them from
the earth.

The righteous cry, and the Lord heareth them,
and delivereth them out of all their troubles.

The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a con-
trite heart, and will save such as be of a humble
spirit.

Great are the troubles of the righteous ; but the
Lord delivereth him out of all.

He keepeth all his bones ; so that not one of them
is broken.

But misfortune shall slay the ungodly ; and they
that hate the righteous shall be desolate.

The Lord delivereth the souls of His servants ;
and all they that put their trust in Him shall not be
destitute."

128 RUTILIUS.

When all had received a part of the consecrated
bread and wine, the deacons, kneeling down, placed
what remained upon the altar, and covered it up.
Then one of them, turning to the people, said,

" Let us give thanks to God, that He hath
vouchsafed to make us partakers of the Body and
Blood of Christ, for remission of sins, and for life
everlasting. And let us pray to Him that He would
keep us unblameable, as He is good, and a lover of
men."

Bishop (turning towards the altar). " O God,
who of Thy great and inexpressible love to man dost
condescend to the weakness of Thy servants ; we
give thanks to Thee, that Thou hast vouchsafed to
make us partakers of this heavenly table : let not
the receiving of Thy unspotted mysteries be to the
condemnation of us sinners ; but keep us, good God,
in the sanctification of Thy Holy Spirit, that being
made holy, we may obtain a part and inheritance
with all Thy saints who have pleased Thee from the
beginning of the world ; through the mercies of Thy
only-begotten Son, our Lord, and God, and Saviour,
Jesus Christ, with whom and Thy Holy Spirit, Thou
art blessed, now and for ever, world without end.
Amen."

The bishop and people then sung, —

" Glory be to God in the highest,

And on earth peace,

Good will towards men.

We praise Thee,

CE. IX. THE MIDNIGHT ASSEMBLAGE. 129

We bless Thee,

We worship Thee,

We glorify Thee,

We give thanks to Thee,

For Thy great glory,

Lord,

Heavenly King,

God the Father Almighty,

Lord, the only-begotten Son,

Jesus Christ,

And Holy Ghost :

O Lord God,

Lamb of God,

Son of the Father,

Who takest away the sins of the world,

Have mercy upon us :

Thou that takest away the sins of the world,

Receive our prayers ;

Thou that sittest at the right hand of God the
Father,

Have mercy upon us.

For Thou only art holy ;

Thou only art the Lord,

Jesus Christ,

To the glory of God the Father.

Bishop (turning to the people). O God, great
and wonderful, look upon Thy servants, who bow
down their necks unto Thee ; stretch forth Thy
powerful hand, full of blessings, and bless Thy
people. Preserve Thine inheritance, that we may

130 RUTILIUi*.

continually glorify Thee for ever, the only living
and true God : for to Thee, O Father, belongs glory,
honour, adoration, and thanksgiving, and to Thy
Son and Holy Spirit, now and ever.
People. Amen.

Deacon (after a short pause). Depart in peace."
After these words, the whole assembly rose up,
and in silence, like men who felt that they were still
in the presence of some mysterious power, they de-
parted as rapidly as they had assembled together.
When the people were gone, the deacons took charge
of what remained of the consecrated bread and wine,
one of them having first shewn the bishop a list of
the sick persons to whom they were to dispense them.
This done, they too departed ; and Rutilius came
forth from his hiding-place, with a mingled feeling
of satisfaction and uneasiness, — uneasiness at the
thought, that he had intruded where he ought not,
and had perhaps incurred guilt without designing it;
yet satisfaction at receiving this accidental confuta-
tion of the charges still prevalent against the Chris-
tians. " There is nothing, at all events," he said to
himself, " of that impiety which has been asserted
to exist in their secret meetings. If 1 do not per-
ceive the meaning or significancy of all which they
have done, yet the seriousness and reverence of
their manner shews that they themselves feel its
reality ; and what a contrast is it to the gross and
debasing pleasures which occupy the majority of
mankind !"

CH. IX. 'THE MIDNIGHT ASSEMBLAGE. 131

But besides these general grounds of interest,
Rutilius's attention had been powerfully awakened
by a circumstance of a personal nature. What that
circumstance was will be seen in the next chapter.

CHAPTER X.

¥i»it to ^atnpfiflti*. STfje Dot &*t ot antiquity. 8|}t
$etofef) Contort.

There the new-born river lies,
Outspread beneath its native skies,
As if it there would love to dwell
Alone and unapproachable ;
Soon flowing forward, and resign'd
To the will of the creating Mind,
It springs at once with sudden leap
Down from the immeasurable steep.

Southet.

The light was already beginning to dawn in the east,
when Rutilius crept forth through the same opening
by which he had entered the church of the Chris-
tians. He retraced his steps along the tottering
wall which divided the ruins ; and hastened to re-
gain Milo's house before the advancing day should
discover how he had been employed. A few slaves
were issuing forth for their morning labour as he
entered the porter's lodge, and, casting a glance at
the picture of the great dog, which was just dis-
cernible, hurried up to his room. The excitement
and fatigue of the scenes through which he had
passed began now to take effect upon him; but
youth and a robust frame were on his side; and
when, with a throbbing head, he hastily threw him-

CH. X. VISIT TO PAMPHILUS. 133

self upon his bed, he was asleep in a moment. Still,
however, did the events of the preceding day con-
tinue to chase one another through his memory.
First, he dreamt that he was in Milo's hall; — there
were the numerous lamps, the noisy guests, the
loaded tables — at the head of the feast the host
himself, bent solely on display and self-indulgence,
striving how he could stimulate his jaded appetite,
and find some new refinement of luxurious sen-
suality. The whole place seemed filled with what
iflinistered to the grossness of appetite, while the
sycophants and debauchees around were imitating the
example and applauding the conduct of their chief.
Women too were there, only more disgusting than
the men, because their shameless depravity bespoke
the degeneracy and ruin of a purer nature.

On a sudden all was changed. The chief figure
in the hall was a reverend old man, of meek and
self- denying demeanour, whose calmness, the result
of habitual indifference to the things of earth, was
blended with a lofty but almost enthusiastic ardour,
the consequence of an habitual intercourse with
things unseen. All in him and around spoke the
manner of one disengaged from this world. Ruti-
lius felt that he was in the presence of the Christian
bishop. About him stood men whose deep serious-
ness was produced not by a harsh and unkindly
temper towards mankind, but by the conviction that
to them was entrusted a secret of which the ma-
jority of men were ignorant. There, too, he saw

N

134 RUT1LIUS.

women ; but oh, how different from the degenerate
objects whose place they occupied! Pure, holy,
refined, ready apparently to step forth for the reliei
of suffering, but conscious of their own dignity, and
that reserve and self-restraint were the true orna-
ments of their nature. And among them knelt one
from whom he found it impossible to withdraw his
eyes. She belonged evidently to the class of un-
married persons, for she did not wear the veil which
was used by matrons. But she had not the peculiar
dress which denoted those who had devoted them-
selves to the especial service of the Church, and
were therefore formed into the class of widows and
virgins. Yet so closely was she wrapped up, that no
eye but his could have singled her out of the multi-
tude. Could it indeed be Flavia ? What could have
brought her from Egypt, where some weeks ago he
had heard of her safe arrival? How came she not
to be yet wedded to Marcellus?

Rutilius's first thought at waking was, that he
had overslept his usual hour of rising, and been ha-
rassed by tumultuous dreams. But the court of
Milo's house and the distant ruins, which his win-
dow overlooked, brought back all the scenes of the
preceding night to his mind. He arose ; and after
bidding Milo a hasty farewell, he set forth to seek
out Pamphilus in the adjoining town of Caesaraea.
His host, who was not wanting in the duties of hos-
pitality, would willingly have detained him ; but he
had seen enough to disgust him in the revels of the

CH. X. VISIT TO PAMPHILUS. 135

preceding night, even if the hope of hearing some-
thing respecting Flavia had not added to his desire
to depart.

As he rode out of the courtyard, the gates of
the magnificent hall, flanked by its lofty columns,
stood open on one side, and on the other a sort of
dingy prison-house, where some slaves, of abject
appearance, were engaged in labour. This close
approximation of pomp and misery brought to his
recollection the liberty and simple dignity which he
had seen in the house of the Christian ruler at Tyre.
What a rebuke was it to the self-indulgence of his
countrymen !

" And is this," he said to himself, " the object
for which men seek to grow rich and powerful ?
—That they may live in this insipid round of plea-
sures, seeking continually to find fresh objects to
solicit their senses ; while all the higher sources of
satisfaction — a mind at peace with itself, love, purity,
confidence, self-command — are lost sight of and for-
gotten ! How much better are the rules which even
philosophy points out obeyed by those despised
Nazaraeans! And is not some such law as theirs
wanted to raise the mass of mankind from their pre-
sent degradation ? What have our philosophers done
for the poor during the 500 years that their teaching
has been popular with men of education ? They
still continue slaves : they cannot even expect to
take part in an improvement, which, if it is ever in-
troduced, will require long study and much leisure

136 RUTILIU8.

in every one who is to profit by it. This the mass
of mankind can never bestow ; and since weak and
sensual men, like Milo, will always take their cha-
racter from what is popular, I see not how either
rich or poor are to be improved, except by some-
thing which will give all men greater dignity and
self-respect. This is certainly done by the system
of the Christians : the opinion that every one pos-
sesses an immortal soul, for which he must give
account hereafter, which Plato could never induce
the generality to believe, is by them universally ad-
mitted; and their doctrine of the resurrection of men's
bodies enables the vulgar to enter more completely
into its meaning. Then their union into one Church
gives them such a close interest in each other, that
their baptism is like the introduction of a new prin-
ciple of life into the world.

He was so full of these thoughts, that he could
not refrain from expressing them to two travellers
with whom he fell in on the road ; one of them hav-
ing been a guest the day before at Milo's house. He
was of middle age, and in manner and expression
shewed considerable excitement; while his compa-
nion was a younger man, of a grave and studious
appearance. The former warmly responded to his
words. " What luxury," he said •* and coarseness
was there in our entertainment yesterday ! Yet
what can you expect, when the vices of the people
are but a copy of those extravagances which the
popular voice attributes to their gods. How genuine

CH. X. VISIT TO PAMPHILUS. 137

is the sentiment which Terence puts into the young
man's mouth, ' Shall I, a weak mortal, be expected
to overcome a temptation which Jupiter, the great
god of the sky, was unable to resist V "

Rutilius felt the justice of the sentiment, and
asked whether his companion was a philosopher.

" No," he replied ; " I belong to a family which
is not held together, like your philosophic schools,
by the mere community of opinion, but which has a
closer bond of concord."

" Am I to understand that you are a Christian ?"
broke out the young student, whose name proved to
be Eusebius ; " for I believe it to be one of their
main distinctions that they are not merely connected,
like the followers of the heathen sages, by the opi-
nions they profess, but by their solemn introduction
into one body."

" Young man," said the other, " I belong to no
such despised party. I belong to die exalted heaven-
worshippers, of whom you may perhaps have heard,
who extract the kernel both from the Jewish and
heathen systems."

" I have heard of you," said Eusebius ; " you
have a leader, whom you call your chief, and a sort
of baptism at your admission. But tell me, what
progress do you make in the improvement of the
world ? Can you give the signs which we do, either
that your system proceeds from God, or that it is
adapted to man's benefit ? By what authority does
your chief receive you by baptism ? Is it not his

138 RUTILIU8.

own ? And what proof have you that any benefit
will attend it ? Whereas for our baptism we have
the authority of its divine Founder ; and the expe-
rience of the world shews that, in the long-run, a
real benefit follows from its application. Depend
on it, your system is but a faint resemblance of that
which God has established among us ; a proof that
men feel the need of some such society as our Church
affords, yet know not where to find it. You are like
the daughters of Pelias, who, when they saw that
Medaea could give new life to an ancient frame, must
needs try their hand at the same creative work. But
no society will stand but one, and that one the Church
of Christ."

The Hypsistasian (so his associate was called)
had little to reply ; and was glad to close the conver-
sation, by saying that his road here parted from that
of our travellers. Eusebius, who proved to be inti-
mate with Pamphilus, and on his way to visit him,
proceeded with the young Roman. They soon reached
his house, and were greeted with the most hearty
reception.

" Well, Eusebius," said Pamphilus, " how ad-
vance your historical collections ; and what are you
at present seeking ?"

" My purpose," said Eusebius, " is to visit the
library at Jerusalem which was collected by Alex-
ander, its former bishop. It is said to contain letters
from the early fathers of our Church, which may be
of essential service."

CH. X. DUE USE OF ANTIQUITY. 139

" My young friend," said Pamphilus, turning to
Rutilius, " is collecting the works of all our earlier
writers, that he may digest our scattered history into
one body. The work is of more importance than
you might at first suppose. Its object is not merely
that natural curiosity which led Herodotus to examine
into the early history of Greece, or Livy to record the
fables which have been invented respecting the origin
of Rome. But to a Christian, history is not a mere
entertainment. It is the ear through which God's
voice speaks to men. In one respect we are like
the Pythagoreans, — we profess not to discover the
truth by our own wit, but think that the right system
has been laid down once for all. For this we search
the Scriptures ; but since they contain difficult pas-
sages, and since they speak of persons and institu-
tions which no longer exist, we need the help of his-
tory to teach us what interpretation was put upon
doubtful passages by those who were best able to
comprehend them. You see there, upon my table,
a roll containing the words of St. John. Beside it is
another, in which are the letters of the martyr Igna-
tius. Of St. John's words, many are so clear that a
child might comprehend them ; but there are others
which touch upon such lofty secrets, that they have
made men choose the eagle as the fittest emblem for
his penetrating character. Now, it is an especial
comfort to me, when I can find how Ignatius received
the teaching of St. John. I know that Ignatius was

140 BUTILIUS.

accounted by good judges a man of great wisdom ; for
the Apostles themselves chose him to be their suc-
cessor in ruling over the principal city of Syria, I am
sure that he was sincere ; for he gave up his life as a
witness to the truth. That he was a holy man, all the
Churches witnessed at the time of his death. Indeed,
they put such honour upon his letters, as to read
them in the public service. And even if I could
think so highly of myself as to suppose that I might
be a martyr for the truth, yet how many opportuni-
ties had he of judging respecting the Apostle's mean-
ing, of which I am destitute ! They lived nearly at
the same time ; for Ignatius died but about fifteen
years after the Apostle. They lived not far from
one another, and had opportunities of intercourse in
abundance. And what is true of us at the present
day is true much more of our descendants. There
can be no reasonable man in after-times, who will not
feel how much less fitted he is to form a true judg-
ment of the Apostle's meaning than those who had
waited on his steps and listened to his words."

Pamphilus had begun by addressing Rutilius ;
but as he proceeded, he turned to some young men
who were seated in his apartment, and who appeared
to be his pupils. When he had concluded, one of
them asked why it was that the language of Ignatius
was so different from that of the Apostles on the sub-
ject of the Christian priesthood.

" Plato," he said, " had, as I know, an esoteric,

CH. X. DUE USB OP ANTIQUITY. 141

or inner doctrine, which was supposed to be handed
down among his disciples ; did the Apostles leave any
such traditional record distinct from holy Scripture V*

" Certainly not," said Pamphilus.

" Was not that," interrupted another, " the very
thing which our Lord censured, when He complained
that the Jews forsook the commandment of God to
follow their own traditions ?"

" You make an unfair application of our Lord's
words," said the first speaker : " there may, as
Pamphilus says, have been no unwritten record;
but if God had been pleased that such should have
been given, it would not have been human tradition,
but divine."

" There you speak justly," said Pamphilus ; " and
when I said that no such unwritten record existed,
I meant not that it could not, but that it did not
exist. For where is it ? We know what is meant
by holy Scripture, because the several books which
compose it are quoted by our forefathers. They
were known in the days of our great Origen ; for he
wrote commentaries upon them. Tertullian and
Clement of Alexandria spoke of most of them fifty
years earlier. Sooner still came Irenaeus and Justin.
Hegesippus composed his history but fifty years
after St. John's death ; and at that time the Church
used to believe the same books inspired which we
now do. But who ever heard, in all this time, of
any traditional record over and above the writings ot
the Apostles ? Our early fathers refer us to what

142 EUTILIUS.

was written ; and as they stood nearest to the foun-
tain-head, they could enter best into the meaning of
the Apostles. We believe that this view of truth is
the real mind of the Spirit ; and we must refer, there-
fore, to the like authorities with them."

As Pamphilus stopped here, the young man,
who appeared to .be a convert from Judaism, asked
again, " Why is it, then, that Ignatius uses expres-
sions different from those of Scripture ? For in-
stance, by the words 'priest* and 'altar* he means
something in the Christian dispensation ; whereas in
the New Testament these names have reference to
our ancient covenant."

" Not always," said Pamphilus. " In writing
to your own countrymen, St. Paul (for the senti-
ments are doubtless his, however uttered) tells them
that we also ' have an altar ;' and St. John, writ-
ing when the words were no longer liable to be mis-
taken, speaks of Christian priests. But this is a
subject which it is of importance that you should
understand ; because it touches upon what I have
had occasion to tell you already, that the promises
of God to your nation are, in fact, fulfilled in the
Church of Christ.

" Your covenant was understood from the first
to be only a preparatory one. The first great
change which it underwent was in the appointment
of kings. This was brought about through the sin-
fulness of your fathers ; but it led to one purpose
of your covenant, the discovery, namely, of the future

CH. X. DUE USE OF ANTIQUITY. 143

kingdom of Messiah. That He should sit upon the
throne of David ; that of His kingdom should be
no end ; that it should excel Solomon's greatness ;
that all nations should do Him service ; — these were
truths which were promulgated on the establishment
of your ancient kingdom. Thus can God's provi-
dence bring good out of evil, and make ' the fierce-
ness of man turn to His praise.' Now, it has been
the same in that much greater crime which led to
the final change in your system. The destruction
of your true King has been a step which your nation
made unwittingly towards the accomplishment of the
purposes of God. Your covenant was not to be
done away, but to be fulfilled. Its sacrifices did
not cease because they were unlawful, but because
they were unnecessary. Our Lord Himself obeyed
the precepts of Moses. His Apostles at first did the
like. Till Cornelius was called into the Church,
they thought that obedience to the law of Moses
was necessary, and that the Christian Church would
consist of none but enlightened Jews. So soon as
Gentiles also were brought into Christ's fold, they
understood, by the teaching of God's Spirit, that the
Church was to be a kingdom which should include
all nations. Yet those who had been Jews con-
tinued to be Jews still. They observed Moses'
law, as a thing which was decent and expedient, if it
was not necessary. St. Paul shaved his head, and
employed the priest to offer a sacrifice in his name.
St. James, the first bishop of Jerusalem, lived to

144 RUTILIUS.

the last in the strictest obedience to the law. St.
Peter and St. John went like other Jews to pray in
the temple. Even the Apostle of the Gentiles de-
clared that he was a ' Pharisee, the son of a Phari-
see,' and that ' for the hope of Israel he was bound.'
There was no reason why your whole nation might
not have become Christians, and yet continued to
join in the worship of the temple. No doubt many
Jews thought the order so express that they should
observe the precepts of Moses, that they could not,
with a safe conscience, forego them ; whatever might
be done by others, yet persons of Israelitish blood
would be liable, they supposed, to the fearful judg-
ments decreed in the book of Deuteronomy, if they
departed from the commands of their lawgiver.

" Now, if the whole nation, while it adhered to
this belief, had yet received the further doctrines
of our Lord and His Apostles, who can say that
some clear declaration might not have been given
them, that the purpose of their law was now ful-
filled, and that the customs which belonged to the
Church's infancy were superseded by the institu-
tions of its maturer age ? It is somewhat curious
that we have no express order in our Scriptures
that the sacrifices and usages of the Jewish law
should be left off. We are told, indeed, that they
were not necessary ; but the Apostles declared they
were lawful, and their own practice shewed that they
thought them expedient. They seemed to be waiting
for some decisive declaration that the Jewish system

CH. X. THE JEWISH CONVERT. 145

was ended. And since the nation of Israel con-
tinued to reject Him of whom Moses had prophe-
sied, and only kept to the letter of their law, with-
out the obedience which it was meant to produce, — ■
therefore, when this decisive declaration came, it
came in wrath. The law was given amidst the smoke
of Sinai ; and the flames of Jerusalem declared it to
be fulfilled. By destroying their city and nation;
by driving them from the land which He had given
to their fathers; by rendering the observance of
their law impossible, and putting an end to their
temple-service, — God was pleased to shew that the
prophecies of Moses were fulfilled, and that Israel
had ceased to be a nation.

" So our brethren understood. They had be-
fore joined, so far as they could, in the Jewish service.
They had waited to see whether the Synagogue
would become one with the Church. Even when
St. Paul visited Gentile cities, he began, if he could,
to teach in the Jewish assembly. He did not sepa-
rate the disciples till he was compelled. By the
Sabbath was still meant the Jewish day of rest. The
priests were those who still existed according to the
law. Even the question, how ministers would have
authority, when those were gone to whom our Lord
had given His miraculous commission, remained un-
answered. St. Paul was contented to appoint Ti-
mothy and Titus to act under him, as subordinate
Apostles, by a special commission ; of the future order
of the Church he declared nothing. So long did it

146 EUTILIUS.

please God to wait, that Israel might have the full
guilt of rejecting the Gospel, and that not one jot
or tittle of the law should fail. But so soon as the
measure of Israel's iniquities were filled up, the
whole scene was changed. The remaining Apostles
met immediately in Judaea to appoint a successor to
St. James, the first bishop of Jerusalem, who had
been murdered by his countrymen two years before.
In your inquiries into the past," he said, turning to
Eusebius, "you find this meeting mentioned as of
great importance."

" I do," replied Rutilius's companion. " I see it
is stated that our Lord's surviving brethren, as well
as the remaining Apostles, attended it. St. John, of
course, was there ; and he was the means of esta-
blishing the system of our Church as it now lasts in
that part of Asia to which he afterwards moved."

" Yes," said Pamphilus ; " and before his gospel
was written, we see by his vision of the Revelations,
that every Church had its angel or bishop. For this
the Apostles seem to have waited only till Jerusalem
was destroyed. And now," he said, turning to the
young man whom he had at first addressed, " do you
not discern why Ignatius might naturally employ
words different from those used by the Apostles ?"

" If, as you say, our system ended at the de-
struction of Jerusalem, there certainly could not
be the same danger of confusion in his speaking of
priests and altars as belonging to the Christian
covenant. But are the words proper ones? Is there

CH. X. THE JEWISH CONVERT. 147

any thing in the Christian covenant which can be
called a sacrifice in the same sense with the sacrifice
of our Lord?"

" None whatever," replied Pamphilus ; " our
Lord's is the only sacrifice which can make an atone-
ment for sin, and He Himself is the only High-priest.
But if this is a reason against speaking of Christian
priests, it is equally a reason against speaking of
Jewish; neither had the ancient covenant any sa-
crifice which could take away sin, save the sacrifice
of Christ. What says St. Paul, — 'It is impossible
that the blood of bulls and goats should take away
sin.' Our Lord's sacrifice is common to both cove-
nants ; and it is only by way of figure or prophecy
that your sacrifices could be said to foreshew, or
ours to recall it. We have sacrifices, — prayers,
praise, the eucharist ; the prophets of old declared
that in all places incense should be presented to God
and a pure offering ; and I see not that, when the dan-
ger of mistake had passed away, those who minis-
tered them might not as fitly be called priests as the
sons of Aaron. And thus it is that the offering up
of the Gentiles is acceptable, being sanctified by the
Holy Ghost."

" If this be all," replied the young man, " what
do you mean by speaking either of the sons of
Aaron, or of your present ministers, as God's
priests V*

" I mean," said Pamphilus, " that they are set
apart to offer sacrifices. The Greek name for this

148 RUTILIUS.

office, as you must perceive, means one who is hal-
lowed, or set apart. The same thing is plainly signi-
fied by the. title of presbyter (priest), which is usual
among those who speak the Latin tongue, and which
implies that such respect as belongs to age is due to
those who are selected for this hallowed purpose.
Now, as you know, men have been as truly set apart
among us to offer sacrifices as among your coun-
trymen. The prayers of the people, when they
meet together for God's service, the holy eucharist,
— these are our sacrifices ; — yours were incense and
slaughtered animals."

" But is it not an important distinction," said
the other, "that our priests were allowed to have
immediate access to God's presence in His temple?
Does not this mark them out, in a peculiar sense,
as mediators for the people?"

" Even they," replied Pamphilus, " were but me-
diators in a derived and subordinate manner. In
the highest sense there is but one Mediator between
God and men, the man Christ Jesus. But you must
not suppose that our ministers have not their own
more peculiar admission to God's presence. The
second temple was stated by the prophets to be more
glorious than the first ; yet it was no outward mag-
nificence on which its claim was grounded. Our
Lord's presence there, in the shrine of His humanity,
was a more special consecration than God's earlier
manifestation of Himself in cloud and flame. Now,
it is in Christian assemblies, — in those solemn meet-

CH. X. THE JEWISH CONVERT. 149

ings of Christ's Church, which are summoned ac-
cording to His appointed order, — that our Lord is
more peculiarly near. Their numbers may be few,
but He is with them. ' Where wo or three are ga-
thered together in My name,' He declared, in refer-
ence to His Church's solemnities, ' there am I in the
midst of them.' This is the reason why peculiar
places have been set apart from the first for public
worship. The upper room at Jerusalem, where the
Apostles assembled to break bread, was the best and
most detached apartment which circumstances then
permitted them to set apart for that purpose. So
soon as their means permitted, they removed from
the houses of individuals to those separate buildings
which still last among us. These we call the Lord's
bouse ; just as we have authority from the Apostles
to call the weekly anniversary of Christ's resurrec-
tion the Lord's day. Both are especially holy ; and
those who minister for the congregation under such
favoured circumstances are as truly, though not as
manifestly, in God's presence, as the high-priest
when he entered to the mercy-seat within the veil."

" If this be the case," said the young man, " the
name of priest may be as fitly given now as it was
to those who offered victims as a prediction of our
Lord's coming. But how is it that you called the
prayers of the people an offering ? Is not the eucha-
hst more especially the Christian sacrifice ?"

Pamphilus. " Yes, it is ; for then we especially
o2

150 RUTILIUS.

record Christ's death ; our prayers are offered with
more peculiar acceptance, because that is our main
service : then it is that, in a signal manner, we pre-
sent ourselves, and the oblation which is about to
remind us of the sacrifice of the death of Christ upon
the spiritual altar."

" You mean the bread and wine, which are to be
consecrated as shewing forth Christ's death."

Pamphilus. " These are no doubt included.
When our Lord first appointed this mystic feast,
He employed bread and wine, which had been pre-
sented as an offering to God in the service of your
passover ; and we follow exactly the example which
He gave. We first present before Him ourselves, our
souls and bodies, and with them this simple and un-
ostentatious offering. Out of it is then taken what to
the worthy receiver becomes the means of being en-
grafted in the mystic body of Christ. The consecrated
elements, thus bestowed, are the medium by which
each man becomes a sharer in that great sacrifice
which, once for all, was offered for us upon the cross.
And St. Paul expressly compares the act of those who
partake in them with that participation in the ancient
sacrifices which was allowed to those who had brought
them to the temple. « Behold, Israel after the flesh :
are not those who eat of the sacrifices partakers of
the altar ? The parallel, therefore, seems to justify
the comparison of our sacrifices, though not with
that of Christ, yet with those of the ancient ritual."

CH. X. THE JEWISH CONVERT. 151

The young men now rose to depart; Pamphilus
having first invited Rutilius to visit him again on an
early day, — a request with which he was most willing
to comply.

CHAPTER XL

a Cfirtetfen e|itw|. fc|e jBtertpKne of Srroq?.
SUrrtfrCatm

From thence far off he unto him did shew
A little path, that was both steep and long,
Which to a goodly city led his view,
Whose walls and towers were builded high and strong —
Of pearl and precious stone, that earthly tongue
Cannot describe, nor wit of man- can tell —
Too high a ditty for my simple song :
The city of the great King hight it well,
Wherein eternal peace and happiness doth dwell.

As he thereon stood gazing, he might see
The blessed angels to and fro descend
From highest heaven in gladsome company,
And with great joy into that city wend,
As commonly as friend does with his friend.
Whereat he wondered much, and 'gan inquire
What stately building durst so high extend
Her lofty towers unto the starry sphere,
And what unknowen nation there empeopled were.

Faery Queen.

On his first visit to Pamphilus, the presence of so
many disciples had prevented Rutilius from making
the inquiries which he wished respecting what had
passed during the preceding night; but he hoped to
be more successful next day. He spent some hours
m the morning in viewing the splendid buildings with
which king Herod had adorned Caesarea : his grand
port ; and the noble mole, containing stones of fifty

CH. XI. A. CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 153

feet in length, which gave security to the harbour.
Such, thought the young Roman, are the effects of
our ascendency over these indolent and unpractical
Orientals. He continued his examination the longer,
because he thought that any strangers who were
visiting Caesarea, would in all probability be to be
found in places of such public resort. But no where
could be seen the martial form of Marcellus, or the
well-remembered figure of his beautiful fellow-travel-
ler. And he was glad when the arrival of a suitable
hour enabled him to renew his visit to Pamphilus.

" I have been seeing your town," he said, on
his entrance : " for a provincial capital, your public
buildings are splendid and substantial."

" Herod built them, no doubt, to gain credit with
his Roman masters," said Pamphilus, " as he beau-
tified their temple to conciliate the Jews."

" But what is that large building which I saw on
a hill behind the palace?" said Rutilius; " it seems
but recently built."

" That building," replied the other, " is our
church. Since a lengthened security has allowed us
to profess our religion publicly, our people have
raised many such edifices."

" Do you allow others to enter it ?" asked the
Roman.

" Certainly," said Pamphilus. " There are even
parts of our service in which you might yourself
share, though its more solemn portions are reserved
merely for our own people. It is the period of the

154 RUTILIUS.

day at which I am about to go there; and, if you
wish, I will myself introduce you."

As Rutilius gave a ready assent, they set forth
together. On their way, he asked his companion
whether this was the only Christian church in the
city. Pamphilus told him that at no great distance
was a place which the Christians had formerly fre-
quented in times of persecution, and which they still
employed for some especial solemnities. Rutilius
was at no loss to understand what was meant ; and
by further inquiries, he learnt that it was very usual
for the Christians to assemble an hour or two before
daylight, partly as a memorial of the time when they
could assemble in safety at no other period, and
partly for the convenience of those who were occu-
pied all day in secular business.

The size and magnificence of the church equalled
the expectation which Rutilius had formed of it at a
distance. To the west of it was a lofty portico,
leading to an open court, which separated the sacred
building from the adjoining street. In the centre
was a fountain, where Pamphilus stopped to wash
his hands, before entering the main sanctuary.
." This, I suppose, is some sort of holy 'water," said
Rutilius. " In our temples, as you doubtless know,
the worshippers are sprinkled with a water of lus-
tration."

" There is some resemblance between the cus-
toms," replied Pamphilus ; " but ours differs from
yours, and has a different source. This fountain

CH. XI. A CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 155

contains nothing but common water ; and we use it
merely as an outward memorial of that purification
of heart which is especially needed when we enter
God's presence. Such outward washing is doubt-
less useless, if unaccompanied by inward prepara-
tion ; yet has our Master said, ' This ought ye to
have done, and not to leave the other undone.' Your
holy water may at first have been a testimony of
man's consciousness of his inward defilements ; but
at present it is only an example of the blindness of
superstition, since it seeks, by outward means, to
cleanse the heart."

Thus saying, they approached the ascent which
led into the church, Pamphilus giving alms as he
went to a cripple and some poor people, who were
seated on the steps. " You see," he said, with a
smile, " whom our King chooses for His attendants.
Here are the guards of the royal palace. 9 * 1

On entering, Rutilius found himself in a lofty and
extensive building ; but though his eye could trace
the roof from one end to the other, yet his view
below was obstructed by a rich screen- work of wood,
which was drawn right across, at about twenty feet
from him, and rose about twelve feet in height.
Two handsome folding-doors, however, in the very
middle of this partition, opened a vista to the furthest
end of the church, where he saw a table or altar like
that which he had seen in the church at the ruins,

1 Bingham's Antiquities, viii. 4. 1 ; where see a description
of the general arrangement of the ancient churches.

156 RUTILIUS.

except that it was of wood j 1 and perceived that
the middle and the other end of the building were
crowded with people. As he entered, he could see
that Pamphilus bowed towards the altar at the fur-
ther end, uttering, at the same time, some words in
an under-tone to himself. In the outer compart-
ment, as that which they had entered appeared to
be, were only a few persons, standing near the fold-
ing-doors, or at its further extremities ; and Rutilius
wondered at the unsociable disposition which kept
them from joining their companions. Their de-
jected look, moreover, gave him by no means a
favourable expectation respecting what he should
witness within. As the two new-comers entered,
one of them came up to Pamphilus ; and Rutilius's
surprise increased at observing that, though evidently
not a poor man, he addressed some very urgent re-
quest to his companion. " What ; more of your
beggars !" he said, when the man had retired again
to his place. " Yes," replied the other ; " this is
indeed a beggar, but not for silver and gold. We
are taught that the prayers of the faithful are their
most valuable gifts. And this is one of those unhappy
persons, who having fallen into open sin, has been
excluded for a time from the assembly of the faithful."

1 No stone altars can be shewn to have been used before
the time of Constantine, except those which Cardinal Bona
describes as found in cemeteries at Rome, and which consisted
of large stone slabs, supported by two or more pillars beneath.
— Bona's Res Liturgica, i. 20. 1.

CH. XI. A CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 157

" How is this ?" said Rutilius ; " is it not your
very principle that your Master promises pardon to
the sinner ? Even the mysteries of the heathen pro-
mise this."

Pamphilus. " Our Master not only promises,
bat bestows it. But those who, after having been
admitted in baptism to complete forgiveness, af-
terwards fall into open sin, are subjected to open
shame, both that we may be assured of the sincerity
of their repentance, and that their impunity may not
tempt others to offend. They remain here, there-
fore, while the Church assembles to worship, and ask
the prayers of those who are about to approach God's
more immediate presence."

Rutilius. " But why not allow them to come, and
ask pardon for themselves ? Who can stand in more
need of it ? Do you mean that there is no pardon
after a man has thus fallen ?"

Pamphilus. " We do not exclude any one from
pardon. But our reason for separating him from the
prayers of the congregation is, that this is the cus-
tom which the Apostles introduced, and something
similar was the order which God had before time
appointed among His people the Jews. But this
separation does not continue, in common, beyond a
certain period. After a time such persons are ad-
mitted among the number of those who stand within
these gates, and finally they are restored to theii
place in the congregation."

Thus saying, Pamphilus led his companion

158 RUTILIUS.

through the gates into a second space, separated
from the main area of the building only by a very
low wooden screen, parallel to the higher one through
which they had passed, and about fifteen feet from
it. Full in view, at the further end of the church,
was the altar, raised on steps, and standing but a few
feet from the wall : a railing .stood at some distance
in front of it. As the altar was a large oblong
square, and the wall behind it projected outwards,
in the form of a semicircle, there was room around
the ends, and behind it, for a row of seats : the one
immediately behind the centre of the altar, which
was kept, as Pamphilus said, for the bishop, being
raised above the rest; the others were designed, he
added, for the presbyters, or priests of the second
order. In the middle of the central area, but little
raised above the people, were two desks, which Pam-
philus called ambos, (from the Greek word signifying
to ascend). These Rutilius perceived to resemble
the places from which he had heard the Scriptures
read and the sermon preached at the ruins. A dea-
con was already in one of them, preparing to read ;
and Pamphilus, who was going to his place near the
altar, committed Rutilius to the care of another, tell*
ing him that notice would be given when it was time
for him to depart. Rutilius had a place assigned
him between the higher and the lower screens, not
far from that where Pamphilus had told him that the
penitents were placed before their final admission
among the congregation. The service now opened

CH.-XI. A CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 159

with a period of silence, during which each prayed
apart; and this Rutilius perceived was the same
thing which he had watched before, when he was
unable to discern what was passing. After this, all
rose from their knees; and the singing of psalms,
together with the reading of lessons from Scripture,
succeeded.

When the Scriptures had been read, the bishop
stood upon the steps in front of the altar, and ad-
dressed the people* He began by repeating some
words of what had just been read — words which had
struck Rutilius the more, because they seemed to
connect themselves, in a singular manner, with the
service which he had lately witnessed. The words
were, " My flesh is meat indeed, and My blood is
drink indeed. He that eateth My flesh, and drinketh
My blood* dwelleth in Me, and I in him."
The bishop spoke somewhat as follows :'
" Our Lord Jesus Christ, as we heard when the
holy Gospel was read, has exhorted us, by the pro-
mise of eternal life, to eat His flesh and drink His
blood* You who have heard these words have not
all, as yet, been able to understand them. Those
of you who are baptised and are faithful know His
meaning ; but those who are as yet styled catechu-
mens, or hearers, might hear when the words were
read, but could you understand ? My discourse,
then, must address itself to both classes. Let those

1 The following address is abridged from St. Augustine's
Sermons, § 132.

160 RUTILIUS.

who already eat the flesh of the Lord and drink His
blood, consider what it is which they eat and drink,
lest, as the Apostle says, they eat and drink their own
condemnation. But let those who do not yet eat
and drink, hasten, since they are invited, to such a
banquet. Christ is now daily feeding His people ;
there is His table, which is spread in the midst.
Why is it, let me ask those of you who come as
hearers, that you see His table, and do not approach
to the banquet ? Perhaps when the Gospel was
read just now, you were saying in your hearts, What
can be the meaning of His expression, * My flesh is
meat indeed, and My blood is drink indeed V How
is the Lord's flesh eaten ? How do men drink His
blood? Who is it, then, that shuts the door and pre-
vents you from learning these secrets? They are
veiled, it is true ; but you have but to wish, and the
veil shall be withdrawn. Come near and profess your
belief, and the difficulty is removed. For what our
Lord Jesus says, the faithful already understand.
But you are called a hearer, yet you are deaf. Your
bodily ears are opened — you hear the sounds ad-
dressed to you ; but the ears of your heart are yet
closed, for you do not understand their meaning.
But come, Easter is at hand. Give in your name
for baptism. If the sacred season does not awaken
your feelings, yet let the interest of these words pre-
vail ; come that you may understand our Lord's
assurance, * He that eateth My flesh and drinketh
My blood abideth in Me, and I in him.'

CH. XI. A CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 161

"But if the catechumens, my brethren, require
admonition, that without delay they may draw near
to this great blessing of regeneration, what care
should I take in building up the faithful, that they
may approach with profit, and not eat and drink this
banquet to their own condemnation ! The mean
towards worthy receiving is a holy life. Do you,
therefore, who cannot preach by sermons, preach by
example, that those who are not as yet baptised
may so hapten to follow you, as not to perish by
your mistake? Such of you as are bound by the ties
of married life, be faithful to its obligations. Let the
husband afford an example of that purity which he
requires. Grievous it is that in this respect the
weaker sex is often not equalled by the stronger —
I speak here to the single as well as the married.
It may be that women are more under subjection to
those who care for their conduct But have not you
too, O man, One to fear who is greater than all? You
go out, and are in His sight ; you enter, and are not
hid ; the torch burns, and He sees you ; the torch is
extinguished, He still discerns ; you enter into your
chamber, and He is present, — nay, the very secrets
of your heart are not concealed. Fear Him, whose
eye is perpetually on your ways, and let the very
awe of His presence keep you from sin. Or, if you
will go astray, find some place for your offences
where His eye cannot penetrate.

u Let those who have devoted themselves to a
single life be still more on their guard, that they
r 2

*a*v abwsnv w nnlv ftnm the act, but from the
%N*|*a*Ma a* m Let them remember, of which-
ever *« they are, that it is a copy of die angelic
htr which mcy are leading below. For the angels
of God neither mi m bot are given in marriage.
This «**11 be our **ate after the mtmieU ioau How
wwch b^iict «pt mos* who ester upon this state here
b*l<>% ! K^ then*tf> your several states; lor God
Y**rtnrps ibt tmi your several hJrwrings. The resur-
*vt>o* <vj iKr oead is ewupar ed to die stars of hea-
vwv, * iW ***r. % the Apostle says, ' cbfieretb from
n*w*rtw star ia ftary ; sd also is the resurrection of
the 4**d.' The vntnn's estate wiD shine with one
**?hi ; that of a wsri w l purity with another; with an-
^tbt^, that of sancttned widowhood. They wffl shine
with v*Sows lurbt, bot all be there; their splen-
«bMW will bo differ***, their heaven the same,"

I'V bishop went on with an anneal to the con-

*ot*w« of nvs^ which, to fcatflius, who anew the

|**thHmnam nntftigac; of the heathen world, seemed

*> *iyw that the worshippers whom he saw be-

ti^tv him w**r possessed of some safeguard against

^^> ^vh could no where else he nut with.

»*n tKo ^nnon was over, the deacon who had

<M*«Wt*d b^ to his place made a sign for Ids de-

" Uy * th * <*<Wure of unbefeve^wto^*

^T™** ******* be bad been unable *> obey
ne^iT f t^ W rt «^«rf;ma*te^nani«ifc |

CH. XI. A CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 163

the service enabled him to renew his conversation
with Pamphilus.

After an interval of about an hour, Rutilius was
rejoined by his companion. His first question was
as to the grounds on which he had been excluded.

" I see you have your hidden rites," he said,
" which would be interrupted by the presence of
the uninitiated. Our Grecian mysteries also pro-
fess to reveal to a select few the secrets of the eter-
nal world, of which the generality are ignorant I
met a friend of mine the day after his initiation, and
he answered my questions in words, which, as a man
of letters, I have no doubt you will remember : * I
approached the confines of death ; and having trod
on the threshold of Proserpine, I returned from it,
being carried through all the elements. At midnight
I saw the sun shining with a splendid light ; and I
drew near to the gods beneath and gods above, and
adored them.' "

" I remember the passage which you quote from
that gross fellow Apuleius," replied Pamphilus;
" and I am willing enough to believe that your hea-
then mysteries may in part have been founded on
the natural longing of man's nature for some deeper
view of the realities of life than is afforded by your
popular polytheism. But you must not confound
our discipline of secrecy with any such uncertain
rites. There is a resemblance, no doubt. How should
it be otherwise? Your worship is the corruption
of that ancient system which God revealed to the

164 EUTILIU8.

first fathers of mankind. He so adapted it to man's
nature, that all the subsequent impurities which have
covered, could not altogether conceal it. Cato's
words, when Labienus asked him to consult the
oracle of Jupiter Amnion, as Lucan gives them,
are true in a sense which he did not design:

' Why here demand the will of Heaven t
At the first birth of nature given,
For mankind's universal sake,
His sovereign will the Highest spake.'

You must be aware how many words in jour
Latin language resemble words in Greek; but it
can easily be shewn that these words have not been
borrowed from one another Their likeness arises
from the fact, that the two languages had a common
origin ; and the same cause has been at work in the
religious usages of nations. The corrupted tradi-
tions of the heathen flowed from a source which ori-
ginally was clear and uncontaminate."

" What, then," asked Ruttlius, " is the difference
between our concealed mysteries and what you call
your discipline of secrecy t"

" That question I cannot fully answer," replied
the other, " unless you first tell me a thing which
you either cannot or may not reveal, — namely, what
it is which is taught by your heathen mysteries.
Some of them are known to be mixed up with the
ordinary abominations of your worship ; others are
strongly suspected of inculcating at bottom an uni~
versa! scepticism. But they differ altogether from

CH. XI. DISCIPLINE OF SECRECY. 165

Us, because we make no sort of reserve about what
we teach ; it is plainly declared, as well in our sacred
writings as in the works of our apologists. What
we teach respecting our Lord, — His nature, His
sacrifice for us, the sacraments, by which we parti*
cipate in the blessings He bestows, — these things are
declared in the plainest words in our Scriptures ; or,
if it may be thought that the Scriptures are not likely
to be read by strangers, how can they be more plainly
stated than by our great Justin, in the work which
he addressed to the heathen emperor Antoninus?
You see, that we use no reserve at all respecting
the doctrines which we teach in our assemblies."

Rutilius. " Why is it, then, that you excluded
me ? and what did your bishop mean by saying that
I could not understand the words he was explaining?"

Pamphilus. " We have no objection to tell you,
in general, what we do ; but there are many reasons
why we cannot allow you to be present, and therefore
why you cannot fully understand what is related.
Not that we wish to conceal what it is in which we
are engaged. On the contrary, Justin long ago made
it public even to the heathen. He mentions our assem-
blies for prayer, and describes the more solemn part
of them as commencing with a kiss of peace. ' Then,'
he goes on, ' there is brought to our principal minis-
ter bread, and a cup containing wine and water.
And he, after having rendered praise to the Father,
through the name of the Son and of the Holy Ghost,
offers the sacrifice of thanks, at considerable length,

166 RUTinua.

for our having been thought worthy of this blessing
by God. And when he has finished his prayer, and
the offering of his thanks, all the people exclaim
4 Amen.' After which, the deacons give to each per-
son who is present some of this bread and wine,
which has been offered up as a sacrifice of thanks-
giving, and carry out portions of it to those who are
not present/

" ' This food,' Justin goes on, ' we call the eucha-
rist; and no one may partake of it but believers,
who have been baptised, and who live according to
Christ's command. For we do not receive it as com-
mon bread, or a common cup ; but as Jesus Christ
our Saviour was incarnate by the word of God, and
took flesh and blood for our salvation, so have we
been instructed, that the food which has been offered
up as a sacrifice of thanks according to a form of
prayer which He appointed, is the flesh 1 and blood
of the incarnate Jesus, and that by it our flesh and
blood, by a spiritual change, receive nourishment.'

" You see we make no scruple of telling what

1 It may be well to point out, for the sake of persons who
are not acquainted with the real nature of the controversy re-
specting transubstantiation, that Justin's words expressly con-
tradict that novel doctrine of the Romish Church. He speaks of
the elements after consecration as being still bread and wine, —
the specific point which the Romanists deny. His words assert
the doctrine of the real presence in no other sense than that in
which it is taught in the Catechism of the Church of England,
t. e. that " the body and blood of Christ are verily and indeed
taken and received by the faithful in the Lord's supper."

1

CH. XI. DISCIPLINE- OF SECRECY. 167

our mysteries are. Although, in truth, what I have
quoted from Justin is nothing more than what you
have heard read, word for word, in our lesson to-
day."

" If this, then, be all," said Rutilius, " why should
not I, or any one else, be present ?"

" I have told you before," answered the other,
that we Christians do not profess to devise customs
for ourselves, but follow those for which we have
the authority of our Lord and His Apostles. We
should think it a sufficient reason, therefore, for ex-
cluding strangers, that when this sacrament was
celebrated in early time, none but the brethren were
allowed to partake it. Besides, this sacrament is
offered to all men, as the means whereby, after they
have believed, they may be united to Christ. It is
an insult, therefore, and ingratitude to the Giver
of all blessings, when He has spread His board for
the support »of man, if those, who ought to be guests,
turn their backs upon His invitation. And how can
we let those be present, when we offer our thanks to
God, who at the very moment are insulting His ma-
jesty? These would be sufficient reasons ; but there
is another still more immediate ; — it is for your own
safety you are excluded."

" What !" replied the other, " do those who wit-
ness this service suftei injury by any magical influ-
ence ? I know that respecting some of our secret
rites there is this opinion ; but among you I did not
look for it.

168 RUTILIUS.

" It is not this danger to which I referred," said
Pamphilus ; " but to one not less serious. I hope
the day will come when I shall see you among those
who draw near to God's altar. If you do, you will
find that, by feasting at His heavenly table, the com-
mon and simple elements of this natural world will be
made to minister to your benefit. Though mere bread
and wine, as Justin calls them, you will find from
what you thus partake an especial advantage. Now,
to obtain this, you must draw near with reverence.
An awful sense of God's presence — a faithful ap-
preciation of the nature of His gifts ; — this is the grand
thing you will want. But if you have been in the
habit of seeing what is done, before you have been
taught to form that temper of mind in which you can
come with advantage, there will be great danger of
your being possessed with such an irreverent spirit as
will prevent you, in the language of our sacred books,
1 from discerning the Lord's body.' This ground of
our conduct was brought forward a few years back
by Archelaus, one of our bishops, in an argument
which he maintained against Manes, the author of
a new sect among the Persians. This Manes de-
nied God's almighty power, and man's free agency.
And Archelaus, having to explain why the Church
was not accustomed to speak to the Gentiles those
mysteries which it reserved for the faithful, said to
him, — 'To a Gentile we declare not the mysteries
concerning the Father, and the Son, and the Holy
Spirit ; nor before catechumens do we discourse

CH. XI. DISCIPLINE OP SECRECY. 169

plainly respecting mysteries : but many times we
apeak in a covert manner, that the faithful may un-
derstand, and the ignorant receive no injury.' "

" And yet," said Rutilius, " you do declare these
things to all men."

Pamphilus. " We make known, even to the
heathen, our Lord's Godhead, and the redemption
through His blood ; but the doctrines of His divine
nature, which are contained in our creeds, we do
not dwell upon till men come to us for instruction.
In like manner, though we tell the catechumens
what is designed by the Lord's supper, yet the par-
ticulars of that sacred rite, the mode of performing it,
the exact nature of its benefits, we keep to ourselves.
After all that you have heard respecting it, you would
not be able to imitate our custom. Who performs
the different parts of the ceremony, — in what order, —
with what words, — you would be unable to discover."

Rutilius thought of the service which in so sin-
gular a manner he had beheld, and felt that Pamphi-
lus spoke truly.

Pamphilus proceeded, — " Since I saw you at Tyre,
I have heard a story, which shews in a very curious
manner the necessity of this caution. Some little
distance north-east of Tyre is a city called Helio-
polis, where a great temple of Venus has corrupted
the people's manners, so that they are sunk into the
lowest depths of debasement. In this place they
very lately had some public shows. You know that
Q

1 70 KUTILIUS.

at such times, and in such places, the most dreadful
crimes are often exhibited on the open stage. This
time, by way of varying the thing, they determined,
for the amusement of die people, to exhibit the spec-
tacle of Christian baptism. How they learnt what
is done I know not ; perhaps they had some apos-
tate among them. Though, indeed, how far they
imitated it exactly, I have not heard. However,
they prepared one of their company, dressed him up
as Christians are dressed for baptism, and immersed
him publicly in water. But it pleased God to rebuke
this mockery of His rite. Gelasinus, the man who
had received this sham baptism, (for it certainly was
not administered by any one who had authority to
perform it), on coming out of the water, positively
refused to go on with his part. ' I am a Christian !'
he exclaimed ; ' I saw, when in the water, such a glory
of God, as impressed me with the greatest awe : T
am ready to die a Christian !' The profligate people
were so enraged at this sudden obstacle to their
amusement, that they rushed upon the stage, hurried
Gelasinus out of the theatre, and stoned him to death,
in the very dress which had been put upon him in
derision of our faith. This event, which happened,
as I was assured, this very summer, is surely a suf-
ficient reason for that discipline of secrecy which we
practise."

" There was another point in your bishop's ser-
mon," said Rutilius, " on which I should like to be

CH. XI. ASCETICISM. 171

informed. He mentioned the great excellence of a
single life. Do you maintain that the state of mar-
riage is in itself unholy V

" Far from it," said Pamphilus : " great num-
bers of our bishops and priests are married men ;
and that they maintain marriage to be unholy, is
one of the very errors for which we have excluded
the heretics."

Rutilius. " But are there not among you many
of both sexes who live single lives, and do you not
employ them in your Church-offices? Among us,
you know, a single life is considered discreditable,
and there are express laws against it."

" The difference between our view and yours,"
replied Pamphilus, " does not arise from our think-
ing marriage unlawful ; it is the natural result of a
grand contrast which there is between the Christian
system and that of the heathen world. You are for
the present state, — we for that which is to come.
Sense, therefore is your guide, — faith is ours.
You measure the useful, the beautiful, and the
grand, by the rule of nature, — but we by the prin-
ciples of grace. Your poets, therefore, and your
artists, exhibit in its utmost perfection the present
loveliness of the visible creation ; but what is ideal,
immaterial, impalpable, they do not attempt. It
would be otherwise with Christian artists. They
might not equal the sculptors of Greece in exhibiting
the natural form ; but in representing the spiritual es-

172 RUTILIUS.

sence of imaginary excellence, I should not won-
der if they surpassed even the achievements of
Apelles. Before the Christian poet, likewise, there
open prospects, which, if not so vividly imaging
forth the scenes of this world as the works of
Homer, may yet aspire to a loftier view into the
realities of the next.

" Now what may be said of the arts is true re-
specting your laws and manners. Your best insti-
tutions aim merely at the stability of states, and the
display of the domestic virtues. They cannot rise
beyond the present state. They are but the de-
velopment of natural principles. With you, there-
fore, a single state is looked on with discredit, be-
cause supposed to be sought only from idleness and
a love of self-indulgence. It is opposed to those
social excellences, which are all that your system
comprehends. With us it is otherwise. Though not
forgetting or undervaluing the domestic duties, we
are taught that there are others of a more ennobling,
though not more necessary kind. The perpetual
view of the eternal world; preparation for it; the
display of its principles in this adulterous and evil
generation — these we feel to be a duty as binding as
that of leaving children to the state, and swelling the
armies of the emperor.

" Now although these higher functions of our na-
ture may be performed by married men, yet our
Scriptures tell us that a single life affords peculiar

CH. XI. ASCETICISM. .173

advantages for their display : and therefore, though
not in itself more meritorious, — for no act of ours
in reality merits any thing, — yet we consider that a
single life, when entered upon with a view to God's
service, tends most to the display of that angelic
nature of which it is our object to afford an example
to mankind.

" Then you must remember how many persons
join us from disgust at the profligacy of their
heathen relations, and are anxious for some employ-
ment which may give a new object to their wounded
affections. We bind them, as you know, by no pro-
mise — they may even leave us if they choose ; but
we give them an opportunity of serving God in a
manner which, except among ourselves, is abso-
lutely unknown. And perhaps the great contrast
between the self-denial which such persons gene-
rally adopt, and the gross selfishness of the world
around, may have led some of our writers to use
exaggerated language in describing their conduct.
Certainly nothing has more tended to advance our
cause with refined and noble spirits than the ex-
ample which they afford. The heathen world needs
to be startled by some great instance of self-denial,
Men have grown callous in their vices ; selfishness
has become the professed element of their being.
It is not an ordinary specimen of religion which will
affect their hearts. But when they see persons of
rank and fortune cast away all that they hold so
q2

174

RUTIL1UB.

valuable, and with a willing mind embrace poverty
and an abstracted life for the sake of God's ser-
vice, they cannot but recognise the reality of that
Gospel which is proclaimed among them."

They had now reached Pamphilus's house;
and Rutilius left him, with a promise of calling
next day.

Moses taking off his shoe from his foot.
From the Cemetery of St. Agnes at Borne.

CHAPTER XII.

SStotp of StaUlftis's Brother. Z%t ^rfariplt of Interpreting
t|e StrCptttres.

This is got by casting pearl to bogs
That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood,
And still revolt, when truth would set them free,
license they mean, when they cry liberty;
For who lores that must first be wise and good :
But from that mark how far they rove we see,
For all this waste of wealth and loss of blood.

Milton.

CiESABEA contained much which was fitted to engage
a young Roman, especially if he took interest in the
military or civil administration of the empire. But
Rutilius was not sorry when his survey of its gar-
rison and its public tribunals was ended, and the
time came at which he had resolved to renew his
visit to his Christian friend. Pamphilus was alone,
and closely occupied in the preparation of various
manuscripts which were extended before him.

" I fear I interrupt some interesting study," said
the young Roman.

" The subject is indeed of great interest," re-
plied the other. "I am endeavouring to ascertain
what was the original text of that translation of the
Old Testament which was made by the Alexandrian
Jews when the use of the Hebrew tongue began to
diminish among them. The work has long been

J 76 RUTILIU8.

preserved in the royal library which was founded by
King Ptolemy Philadelphia, but the several copies
vary in their expression. It is of the more im-
portance to know which is correct, because few of
our people are acquainted with Hebrew ; and the
Jews, who have the original of the Old Testament,
may corrupt its declarations. In order to prevent
this, I am preparing a complete version of the Old
Testament in Greek. Look, for instance, at this
Psalm. In it, according to the Greek version,
the object of the Psalm exclaims, 'They pierced
My hands and My feet.' But the Jews have altered
the words, rendering them, ( as a lion my hands
and my feet/ Their interpretation robs the passage
of signification ; yet they are willing thus to alter it,
rather than admit so clear a statement of our Lord's
sufferings upon the cross. Again, in this place,"
he said, turning to Isaiah's prophecy, " occurs a re-
markable prediction of our Lord's miraculous birth :
* Behold,' it is said, * a virgin shall conceive and bear
a son.' Now the Hebrew word in this passage is
equally applicable to the prophetess, whose son is
set forth as a type of the future Messiah. But the
term employed in the Greek translation fixes the
passage to the supernatural signification of the same
word, and shews that a miraculous birth was in-
tended. Thus does the judgment of the ancient
Jewish Church shew what signification was originally
put upon these important words."

" Are all Christians," asked Rutilius, " agreed

CH. XII. HIS BROTHER'S STORY. 177

what signification shall be put upon the words of
their sacred writings ?"

Pamphilus. "They all have a rule of interpreta-
tion, which, so far as it can be applied, is decisive ;
they consider Scripture to bear that meaning which
from the first has been received among us."

" My reason for asking," said Rutilius, " is, that
I have heard of a precept of your scriptural books
which, from what I observe, seems not to be generally
admitted. I have heard that they forbid the soldier
to unsheath his sword ; now I see many Christians
who draw their swords without reserve in the ser-
vice of the emperor."

Pamphilus . "From whom can you have heard
that the words to which you refer forbid the military
profession ?"

11 1 told you once," replied Rutilius, " that fa-
mily circumstances would prevent me from ever mak-
ing profession of the Christian faith. I had once a
brother, whose most miserable end gave to myself,
and to all my kindred, an unconquerable enmity to
your system."

" What was it ?" said Pamphilus.

Rutilius. " My brother was a youth of much pro-
mise, ardent, courageous, affectionate ; and free from
all the gross excess which is so common at that age.
One fault he had, that he was the prey of any strong
impression upon his imagination. He was intended
for the service of the army, and was making prepa-
ration for it in the house of a relation, to whose care

1?8 RUTILIUS.

he had been committed. Suddenly my father re-
ceived information that my brother had been prac-
tised upon by some enthusiast in the neighbourhood,
and that it would be better that an instant call to ser-
vice should remove him from such dangerous influ-
ence. My father immediately set out to visit him ;
and wrote to his relative to meet him on a certain
day in the provincial town which lay upon his route,
that my brother, whose name had already been given
in for the legionary service, might take upon him
the vow of his profession. The praefect, who was
raising new levies in this place, happened to be ac-
quainted with our family; and when my father
appeared, he found my unhappy brother already
standing before him. * What is your name ?' said
the praefect to my brother. Judge of my father's
consternation when he heard him reply, ' Why do
you ask my name? I cannot be enlisted in the
emperor's service ; I am already servant to Christ, a
King. I yield military obedience to no other leader.'
The prapfect, who knew that by persisting my bro-
ther would expose himself to capital punishment,
affected to pay no attention to his answer, but pro-
ceeded with the usual directions. ' Let him be
measured,' he said to the officer in attendance.
' His height is five feet ten inches/ replied the
officer, after measuring him. ' Let him receive the
military mark,' said the praefect. This was the de-
cisive moment ; all eyes were turned upon my poor
brother, while my father stood by in breathless anxi-

CH. XII. HIS BROTHER'S STORY. 179

ety, hoping that he would submit. But he positively
refused to receive the imperial sign, exclaiming, * I
cannot do it ; I cannot be the world's soldier, seeing
that I am the soldier of God.' The prefect, who,
from regard for our family, was desirous to overcome
his opposition, tried to reason with him. ' You had
better do it ; your life is at stake.' ' You may cut
off my head/ he replied; * but I cannot receive the
emperors sign ; for I have already received in bap-
tism the sign of Christ, my God.' ' There are many
Christian soldiers, in the armies of Dioclesian,' said
the praefect ; c why should not you serve, like the
rest of them V ' They follow their own judgment ;
but I cannot do what I know to be wrong. If you
put upon me the badge of service, I shall but break
it off again ; for I cannot wear it round my neck, now
that I have received the precious sign of Christ, my
Saviour/

" There was much more of this kind, too painful
for me to tell you ; nor can I bear to think how his
young blood was shed, in consequence, by the exe-
cutioner. But I was told that his conduct was much
praised by the Christians ; and a wealthy lady among
them requested that she might be allowed to inter
his body in a tomb which she had prepared for her-
self. 1 And are there not some words in your sacred
writings which would seem to countenance his action,
although so many of your people act otherwise ?"

1 This story, the subject of which was a youth named Maxi-
milian, is recorded in the Acta Sincera of Ruinart, p. 300.

180 RUTILIUS.

11 It is no wonder," said Pamphilus, " if such
daring and resolution has been admired ; and no
doubt conscience ought to be obeyed, even if it be
ill-directed. Your brother's conduct is, at all events,
as well fitted to excite applause as that of the young
admirer of the Grecian philosophy —

he who, to enjoy

Plato's Elysium, leaped into the sea,
Cleombrotus

But you would not find that what he did was ap-
proved by any well-instructed Christian; for we
consider that it is the cause, and not the mere en-
durance of suffering, which makes the martyr."

Rutilius. " But if your sacred writings forbid
men to fight, how come you to understand the mat-
ter differently ? Porphyry, with whom I once talked
on the subject, told me that your Scriptures ordered
men not * to resist evil,' and to * put the sword into
the sheath ; for that all they who took the sword
should perish by the sword.'"

" But, Rutilius," replied the other, " you will
perceive readily enough that all commands are to
be understood not merely according to their sound,
but according to their sense. When Pythagoras
said, ' Beware the bean/ every rational man perceives
that he was not giving directions respecting food, but
that he was cautioning his followers not to be ambi-
tious of those public employments, in the apportion-
ment of which, by lot, this vegetable was often em-
ployed. Such, at least, do I take to have been his

CH. XII. PRINCIPLE OF INTEPRETING SCRIPTURE. 181

meaning. Our Lord's words had, in like manner,
one certain and appropriate meaning ; and we are as
plainly bound to take due pains for discovering that
meaning, as for obeying it."

"But how can you know that my brother had
not done so? Might not he have been as good
a judge as any one else of the meaning of your
Scriptures ? I have been informed that he professed
to be particularly guided, as you have told me that
you Christians are, by the Divine Spirit. The prae-
fect asked who had persuaded him that he might
not lawfully serve ; and he replied, ' My own spirit,
and He who has called me.' I see not how, on
your principles, he could have acted otherwise than
he did."

" You think," replied Pamphilus, " that he was
bound to do what his conviction, guided, as he
thought himself to be, by God's Spirit, told him was
right?"

" I suppose this is your principle."

" But was not this to make his own judgment
a sort of God — to fancy that it could not deceive
him? Now we Christians know but of one rule
which cannot deceive — I mean the holy Scrip-
tures ; and we know but of one true meaning of the
holy Scriptures — that which they have borne from
the first. If your brother had asked what that one
meaning was, instead of fancying a meaning for him-
self, he would have perceived that his conviction

R

182 RUTILIUS.

was not agreeable to what God has declared, and
therefore that it could not really be suggested by
God's Spirit."

" But what proof have you that the right mean-
ing of your Scriptures is that which they have borne
from the beginning f

" Many proofs : first, die natural one, of whidi
you heard me speaking the other day, — we have the
writings of Christians who lived for years in habits
of intercourse with the Apostles. Who so likely as
these persons to understand their meaning ? Besides,
we know that the order and course of the Church was
appointed by the Apostles ; and their judgment God
was pleased to approve, by giving them the power
of working miracles. Had your brother inquired)
he would have learned that military service had' been
always allowed in the Church ; and he might be sure,
therefore, that he was wrong in supposing that it was
forbidden by Scripture."

" And can you apply this rule of yours to all
doubtful cases of conduct ?" said Rutilius.

" Not to all, perhaps ; but to many which other-
wise would present the greatest difficulties. For in-
stance, there is little said in our Scriptures concerning
the order and government of our churches. It is but
incidentally that we are told that the Apostles were
the stewards of the mysteries of God, and so had
exclusive authority to minister the holy eucharist
But then we find mention in holy Scripture of the

CH. XII. PRINCIPLE OF INTERPRETING 8CRIPTURB. 183

order of the Church, and express commands that
men should obey it. Take these two things to-
gether — the practice and the precept — and we have
a direct command that men should receive, as Chris-
tians have done ever since, that order of bishops,
priests, and deacons, which prevails universally
among us. And this principle I might apply in
many eases ; for it is the one by which all the
order and outward arrangement of our worship is
regulated. We see the evil of departing from it by
such a case as that of your poor brother."

" Is his, then, an unusual instance ?"

" I have heard of no other of the same kind.
Yet, as many men of ardent minds, and who are
wanting in judgment, enter our body, it is certainly
not impossible that such cases may be found."

" It is likely, too," said Rutilius, " as years roll
on, that the practice of your first age will be less
distinctly remembered. Thus, you may in time en-
tirely lose the principle on which you now proceed,
and every one may interpret your Scriptures, as my
poor brother appears to have done, according to his
own caprice."

" It is but too probable," replied Pamphilus ;
" yet here we have one safeguard, of which none but
a Christian can feel the force. Our Master has pro-
mised us that, while the world endures, His doctrine
shall not be altogether lost, or His Church altogether
infected with false doctrine. To this promise we

184 RUTILIUS.

trust, as your countrymen do to their notion of the
fated eternity of Rome's dominion, and, as I am
well convinced, with better reason/'
Thus ended the conversation.

" Hero are the guards of the royal palace. ' Vide p. 1C*

CHAPTER XIII.

a Vixit to 3rm0alm.

Those holy fields,
Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet,
i Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nailed
For our advantage on the bitter cross.

Shakbspeabe.

Rutilius had determined to acquaint his Christian
friend with the circumstances of his night-adventure
near the house of Milo ; but a reluctance to introduce
the subject had hitherto kept him silent. Now, how-
ever, his mind was pretty well made up to become a
candidate for baptism ; and on acquainting Pamphi-
lus next morning with his resolution, he stated to
him what had happened. Pamphilus told him that
he would mention the circumstance to the bishop,
to whose judgment, according to the example of the
Apostles, every thing which happened in the Church
was referred ; adding, that before he could be admit-
ted to the privileges of a Christian, a course of in-
struction would be needful ; and that as the sacred
season of Lent was commencing, lectures would be
given daily to those who were candidates for bap-
tism. " Our usual season of baptism," he said, " is
either the day before our Lord's resurrection, ia
r2

186 RUTILIUS.

token that by baptism men rise to a new life ; or the
day after the feast of Pentecost, because in baptism
are continually poured forth the gifts of the Holy
Ghost."

Pamphilus then proceeded to inquire whether
Rutilius had any friends or relations in the Church.
On hearing the name of his uncle, Marcellus, he
said : " It was for you, then, as I supposed, that I
received a message last night. Your uncle either is
or has been at Jerusalem (so we generally call the
city of jElia) ; and hearing of you from a relation
who passed through this place, by whom, as I under-
stand, you were seen in my company, he has invited
you to join him. Should you be disposed to go, you
may accompany my friend Eusebius, who is travel-
ling in that direction to-morrow. If Marcellus be
still there, you may hear of him from Zambda the
bishop, whose instructions are said to have been
made effectual to the conversion of many soldiers in
your uncle's detachment. Catechetical lectures will
be given there also ; or if, as I rather fear, your
uncle may have left the place, you may return here
in time for their commencement.'*

Rutilius was at no loss to understand by whom
he had been observed ; and though he had resolved
to avoid an influence which he felt would be injurious
to his peace, yet now that his uncle was so near
him, he could not resist the temptation to see Flavia
once more. He resolved, however, as he told Pam-

CH. XIII. A VISIT TO JERUSALEM. 187

philus, to return after two days to Caesarea, and to
prepare himself there for holy baptism.

Next morning the rising sun saw him on the road
with Eusebius, in whose company he had originally
entered Caesarea. As Pamphilus had told him what
was the especial pursuit of Eusebius, he naturally
turned the conversation to it, as they rode together
along the side of the stream which led from Caesarea
to Megiddo. Eusebius gave a ready opportunity,
by referring to Josephus's description of Caesarea,
as they turned back and saw its towers reflect the
- ueams of the rising sun. Rutilius knew nothing of
the writings of Josephus, though he had heard his
name as that of a celebrated Jewish author ; and he
now received, with much interest, the account which
Eusebius readily communicated. " Josephus," he said,
" was the son of a Jewish priest, born soon after the
death of Christ, who having been highly distinguished
among his countrymen both for learning and ability
in business, and having taken a considerable part in
the Jewish war, which ended in the destruction of
Jerusalem, afterwards gained the favour of Vespa-
sian and his son Titus, and settled at Rome. Here
he employed himself in such works as were calcu-
lated to preserve the national spirit of his dispersed
countrymen, and to extend the knowledge of their
peculiar character among the heathen. He first
wrote a history of the war of Palestine in his native
language ; a work which he afterwards translated
into Greek, in order to piesent it to his patron Ves-

138 RUTILIUS

pasian. Then he wrote a body of Jewish antiquities,
drawn chiefly, as regards its earlier portion, from
the Old Testament, but somewhat altered, from a
wish to commend his work to heathen readers. He
also wrote an argumentative work against a gram-
marian named Apion, in defence of the antiquity of
the Jewish nation ; and an account of the Jewish
martyrs in the time of Antiochus Epiphanes : no
doubt he was the more interested in them, because,
by his mother's side, he was himself descended from
the family of the Maccabees. His works," continued
Eusebius, " are well known both among us Chris-
tians and in the heathen world ; for so great was the
fame of Josephus, that a statue was erected to his
memory at Rome, and his works were placed in the
public library."

"Why is he especially remembered by you?"
said Rutilius : " does he mention your Foun-
der ?"

" He does," replied the other, " though only in
a slight and incidental manner. 1 But he uses ex-
pressions respecting Him very surprising in one who
was not himself a Christian. Yet that he continued
a Jew makes his testimony to the state of Palestine
in our Lord's time the less questionable. And we
find in hifn the same aspect of things for which the

1 This passage in Josephus is supposed by many persons
(from its internal improbability) to be an interpolation. Ifso»
it must have been interpolated at a very early period, since it
is quoted by Eusebius.

CH. XIII. A VISIT TO JERU8ALEM. 189

Gospels prepare us, — the same parties among his
countrymen : Herod, miscalled the Great, the same
bloody tyrant which we see him in the massacre of
the innocents ; the other Herod falling by a sudden
visitation; John the Baptist's character and death:
—in these, and abundant other instances, Josephus
gives us an opportunity of seeing the exactness of the
sacred writers."

" Have you historians of your own of similar
merit ?" asked Rutilius.

" None of such reputation as Josephus," said his
companion. " During the first century of our exist-
ence, few of our people were men of letters ; and since
that time our authors have commonly aimed at the
prevention of some false opinion or dangerous prac-
tice ; few of them have had leisure or desire to leave
a general history of the growth of our religion. One
most valuable historian we have had, whose writings
happily supply us with a view of the state of religion
during the age in which we most want it. We have
writers enough from the time of Clement, bishop of
Alexandria, who lived towards the end of the second
century. But the time which is of greatest im-
portance to us is the first age after die death of the
Apostles — the period which elapsed from about the
80th to the 150th year after our Lord. Polycarp,
who lived at that time, has left us but little ; Justin,
whose Apologies to the emperors are in every one's
hands, does not dwell much on matters of history ;
Irenaeus is more full, but he is rather an argumen-

190 RUTILIUS.

tative than a narrative writer. But there is one
author of that age, named Hegesippus, the import-
ance of whose writings cannot be overrated. It is
not for his talents or his critical powers that I praise
him ; but the value of his works arises from his hav-
ing taken the trouble to go round all our Churches,
and ascertain that their rules and principles were the
very same which had been established by the Apos-
tles. This circumstance shews the identity of our
system at a time when to prove its identity is of
the utmost moment. It shews that our Church,
which for the last century and a half has been gra-
dually overshadowing the earth, is the very same
which during the first century and a half of its ex-
istence was coming to the surface unperceived."

" Where is this valuable work of Hegesippus to
be procured ?" said Rutilius.

" Your question has often struck me," said the
other. " We Christians have not heretofore been in
general a literary people. Books are few among us,
because to copy them is so expensive. At present,
such works as those of Hegesippus are preserved in
a few libraries, like that of my friend at Caesarea, or
that of the Church at Jerusalem, which I am going
to visit. The voluminous writings of Origen are, in
like manner, in the hands of Pamphilus. Happily,
our sacred writings are too widely dispersed to be
lost ; but supposing a persecution or a fire were to
destroy a few storehouses of antiquity, many works
of great value might irrecoverably perish. This

CH. XIII. A VISIT TO JERUSALEM. 191

has been one reason why I have devoted my own
thoughts to the study of our history. A summary of
the works now in existence, with some short account
of their contents, may hereafter be of great import-
ance in rendering men acquainted with sources of in-
formation which may be no longer in existence. It
is with a view to this thatl am now going to Jeru-
salem. Alexander, who was bishop there about
eighty years back, collected the works of the ear-
liest Christian writers ; and, in particular, he brought
together a large number of their letters. In no other
place that I know of are these to be found ; and if I
extract the most important portions, I shall be tak-
ing security that they do not perish by any disaster
which may befall this one collection. What a loss
would it be, for instance, if the letters of those two
great African bishops of the last generation, Cyprian
of Carthage and Dionysius of Alexandria, should be
destroyed! The history of the persecution under
Dechis could hardly be understood without them."

Rutilius encouraged his companion to run on in
this way ; for he was a good deal amused at the first
specimen which he had ever met with of a thoroughly
literary Christian. Pamphilus was a man of great
erudition ; but he had much of that serious and ear-
nest character, which looked upon literature rather
as the means towards a great and holy end, than as
any thing in itself of importance. But Eusebius,
though apparently a good and worthy man, was one
in whom the love of learning seemed to be the pre-

192 RUTILIUS.

dominant idea. He bad evidently a real belief in
the truths of Scripture ; but his attachment to. them
seemed, in part at least, to arise from their containing
the antiquities of the Christian Church. His religion
appeared to be as much a species of literature as
of devotion. He talked much of the possibility that
some one of the reigning princes, perceiving the wide
extension of the Christian faith and its obvious per-
manence, would be disposed to adopt and give it
a trial. He expressed great fear lest some of his
brethren, from want of knowledge of the world, or,
as he styled it, want of tact, should, in such case,
prejudice them against religion. Much, he thought,
might be dispensed with in persons of rank. And
he evidently looked with extreme horror on the pro-
spect of another persecution, which the aspect of
public affairs had of late rendered but too probable.

This was a new kind of character, Rutilius
thougnt, among the Christians, though he had known
many such among his literary friends at Athens ; and
he could not but regard the existence of such men
as indicative of the approach of some considerable
change in their condition. It would seem, it oc-
curred to him, as if they were about to accommodate
themselves more to the ways of the world at large ;
and this spirit spreading among them would make
their great numbers more available for any public
purpose.

These thoughts passed in a moment; for Euse-
bius, who was very communicative, went on to de-

CH. XIII. A VISIT TO JERUSALEM. 193

scribe to his companion the places which they passed
— places which he saw with much interest, because
he had lately been engaged in the study of the Scrip-
tures.

" To our left," he said, " is the plain of Me-
giddo, where king Josiah perished. 1 There is An-
tipatris, now half a ruin. When king Herod built
it, he designed that it should be a permanent monu-
ment to his father." Presently they reached Dios-
polis, which Eusebius said was the Lydda where
St. Peter raised Dorcas from the dead. Then he
pointed out Arimathaea, whence came Joseph, who
interred our Lord; and Nob, once, as he said, a
city of the priests,-— now the monument of their
slaughter.

Thus he continued ; till at length, after passing
the monument of Helena, queen of Adiabene, whose
liberality to the Jews, during the great famine in the
time of Claudius, shewed the advantage, Eusebius
said, of conciliating the friendship of great men,
— the travellers entered Jerusalem. Zambda, the
bishop, was not at home; and while awaiting his
return, Rutilius walked out to see the place with
one of the deacons of the Church, who offered to
bear him company.

Though not as yet a professed disciple of Christ,
Rutilius found himself oppressed with unwonted awe,
when he remembered that he was in the very city
where those marvellous events had passed, of which

1 Such a journey is described by St. Jerome (Ep. 86).
s

194 RUTILIUS.

he had of late been hearing. His companion, though
not seemingly a man of enthusiastic character, evi-
dently participated in the same feeling. " This," he
said, " is the soil which was trodden by the blessed
feet of the world's Deliverer." They passed towards
the spot where the great sacrifice, by which the sins
of all generations of men were to be done away, was
consummated. How strange, thought Rutilius, must
have been the virtue of that suffering ! And how
does it remind us that there is a depth and a reality
in sorrow, which the joys and pleasures of this world
cannot attain ! For worldly pleasure does not har-
monise with the deep things of our spirit — rather
they are at enmity with one another ; but a sober
and chastened view of life corresponds with our
condition in this world, with its uncertainty, its un-
satisfying character, the speedy approach of death
and oblivion, the expectation of judgment, the hope
of immortality. Even according to the rules of the
highest philosophy, self-denial is the portal to tran-
quillity of spirit; but when I come here, and am
reminded how the Son of God submitted to the un-
known agonies of the cross, the vain objects of this
world's attraction become not only insipid, but dis-
gusting.

With these thoughts Rutilius approached the hill
of Calvary. What was his surprise upon finding, as
he drew nearer, that a statue, 1 which for some little

1 This and other circumstances respecting Jerusalem are
mentioned by St. Jerome (Ep. 49).

CH. XIII. A VISIT TO JERUSALEM. 195

time he had seen on its summit, about the very place
where the fatal cross had stood, was no other than
that which was connected with the most impure,
enervating, and unmanly thoughts. No figure which
could have crowned the hill would have given him
satisfaction. A simple cross, by leaving the most
unrestricted range to his imagination, would have
been the only thing which would not have. grated
upon his feelings. But with his memory full of the
majestic struggle between the Lord of life and the
powers of evil — when the great Representative of
our ruined race, after submitting to those unima-
ginable sufferings, by which He purchased our re-
demption, at length bowed the head, and cried, " /*
\s finished!" — when the reality of the conflict be-
tween the sensual and the spiritual nature was so
clearly demonstrated, and a path opened for man-
kind to those exalted destinies from which they
seemed to be for ever excluded ; — with such thoughts
pressing upon his mind, to have obtruded upon his
senses the low and humiliating associations of mere
earthly pleasure — to see a statue of Venus on the
hill of Calvary, — his heart sickened at the spectacle.
He felt ready to renounce all community of feeling
with the votaries of such a goddess. His companion
observed, and probably divined, his feelings.

" What wonder," he said, " that so many of our
brethren abjure all indulgence of that sensual nature,
which, if once allowed its influence, will intrude itself
even into such a scene as this ? Our Egyptian soli-

196 RUTILIUS.

taries may outrage nature by shutting themselves up
in caverns from the very sight of heaven, and deny-
ing their appetite its needful aliment; but how much
fouler an outrage is this to the best feelings of the
heart — to worship Venus on the Hill of the Passion!
You have here," he continued, turning to Rutilius,
" the secret of Christian asceticism. It is not a
mere sullenness against nature, or a proud belief in
the merit of our actions, like the vain devotion of
the Brahmins of India. But heathenism, on the one
side, has polluted all creation with its low sensua-
lity ; and a suffering Deity, on the other, has exalted
self-denial into an imitation of what is divine, till
many a noble heart has been unable to make a com-
promise between the demands of his present being
and the aspirations of his superior nature, and has
renounced the common intercourse of life, as too
contaminated for endurance. What men may do in
some future state of the world, when the pollutions of
the heathen are no longer so apparent, I know not ;
but while this fearful contrast abides, the world needs
surely some great example, some splendid instance
of self-denial, to convince men that the deep emo-
tions of the heart cannot be stilled by the charms of
sensuality."

Rutilius next directed his steps to another emi-
nence, which was crowned at top by a statue of
Jupiter. Instead of the abrupt rocks, which were
the predominant feature of the country, this hill
appeared to consist of an accumulation of materials

CH. XIIT. A VISIT TO JERUSALEM. 197

which he judged to be of artificial construction. His
guide confirmed his conjecture. " In the heart of
this hill," he said, " we are assured that the tomb is
situate which received the body of our Lord. This
heap of earth renders it invisible ; and the chief of
heathen deities has his place above, as though mock-
ing the ineffectual reverence of the followers of the
Crucified. Well : let Jupiter look to it that he is not
one day dethroned. He keeps his seat, indeed, in
the lofty places of the world; but the secret influ-
ences, which are diffusing themselves through the
depths of society, will one day be revealed, and then
this hill likewise may discover its recesses."

So, doubtless, thought many a Christian at that
period, though hardly venturing to hope that the
day would so soon come, when Helena, the wife of
Constantius, at that time one of the reigning Caesars,
should clear away the ruins, and the idol image should
give place to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

But at present there were no signs of such a
change; and near the cave whence the First-born
from the dead arose was a cemetery, where might
be seen the cheerless memorials of pagan burial.
Rutilius passed into it; and how gloomy seemed the
urns in which the ashes of the dead were consigned,
as was thought, to eternal rest, — and the lacryma-
tories, in which were stored the tears of those who
had parted from them, as they supposed, for ever,
— when he compared them with those better hopes
which the adjoining tomb of the Arimathaean had
s 2

198 RUTILIUS.

disclosed to mankind ! He lingered for a few mo-
ments, perusing the inscriptions, in which children
and parents, or those who had suffered a yet severer
loss, had recorded their irretrievable deprivation;
and which were often inscribed on what was meant
to be a representation of those gates of Orcus, within
which the dead were supposed to be committed to
eternal repose. They were hung with garlands of
roses, emblems of faded hopes; and inverted torches
shewed that the flame of love was extinguished for
ever. But a new scene greeted him, when he fol-
lowed his guide into an adjoining enclosure, which
was occupied by the Christians of the city. Greatly
was he struck by the contrast. Here was grief, in-
deed, but not unmixed with consolation : the sense
of loss, but not the murmur of discontent. He saw
nothing which reminded him of the complaint of the
Roman rhetorician, Quintilian, " I survive the loss
of my two hopeful sons, as a token that there is no
Providence."

The figures and paintings which adorned the
more ornamented tombs were very different from
those which were usual on the monuments of the
heathen. One was so universally present, that he
asked his guide to explain its meaning : a man was
issuing from the mouth of a monstrous fish. " Did
this," he inquired, " refer to the history of Jonah,
and how was it connected with the recollection of
the dead?" The explanation he received shewed him
a singular part of the Christian system. The rever-

To face p. 198.

The foregoing are illustrations of the 8tory of Jonah, from the Cemetery
of St. Agnes at Rome.

GH. XIII. A VISIT TO JERU8ALKM. 199

ence felt towards that divine Being, who had taken
oar nature, had prevented men from expressing His
person by any ordinary representation. As He was
never spoken of save with holy awe — as His sacra-
ments were never celebrated except in privacy, —
so neither was the appearance of His outward form
displayed in such manner as should lead to fami-
liarity. Rutilius could observe, therefore, that there
was no picture of our Lord to be seen in the whole
enclosure, but that the often-repeated figure of a
shepherd, now watching his flock, now bringing a
lamb home upon his shoulders, or sometimes bear-
ing a cross, indicated the presence of Him who was
never absent from the thoughts of Christians. On
the same principle, when our Lord was set forth as
the first begotten from the dead — the natural emblem
on a Christian tomb — it was by the figure of Jonah,
the prophetic emblem of His resurrection.

Rutilius's further inquiries were terminated by
the entrance of Zambda, who had heard of his arrival,
and wished to give him a letter with which he had
been entrusted by Marcellus. " That good man,"
he said, " had been obliged to return to Egypt a few
days before ; but he had expressed an anxious desire
to see his nephew, more especially since he had
heard of the change which had taken place in his
religious opinions." This was fully borne out by the
letter, which expressed his uncle's urgent request
that he would follow him to Egypt, accompanied by
an intimation that he had an important statement to

200 RUTILIUS.

make, which he should wish to communicate by word
of mouth. Rutilius heard likewise from Zambda
some particulars respecting the soldiers who had
been admitted into the Christian community, while
the detachment which Marcellus commanded had re-
mained in Palestine ; and it was not very difficult to
persuade him to rejoin his former comrades, whom
he was assured that he should find assembled at
Alexandria. The same guide who had attended him
in Jerusalem offered to accompany him in his first
day's journey. *'

The Gates of Orcus.
From the Antique.

CHAPTER XIV.

^xoptytit* reapertfng n)r tjfrtos. SPbrCr Ration to be walls
loofeeU for among tfie &ontatrte to <£$rfet(anrtj?.

He shall redeem them one by one,
Where'er the world-encircling sun

Shall see them meekly kneel :
All that He asks on Israel's part,
Is only that the captive heart

Its woe and burden feel.

Christian Fear.

On the following day Rutilius rode forth again from
the gates of Jerusalem, taking the road which led to
Bethlehem. " Is Zambda," he said to his guide,
" of the ancient stock of this country, or is this dis-
tinction still kept up among your brethren ?"

" Since the days of Adrian," replied his compa-
nion, " Palestine has been a forbidden soil to its
former owners. No Jew could settle here, except
he had renounced the distinctive peculiarities of his
race ; and those Christians who still retained them
remained at Pella, where they (led from the arms
of Titus. But since that time the distinction of the
Jews as a nation has been understood to be ended.
Their union was not national, but religious ; and their
connexion with all other members of the body of
Christ has superseded any exclusive pre-eminence
which they had as children of Abraham."

202 RUTILIUS.

" But do not early prophets foretell the restora-
tion of Israel," said Rutilius ; " and does not your
Apostle St. Paul say, that the whole nation will one
day become Christian ?"

" Yes, he does," said the other ; " but he no
where says, that when converted it will retain its
national distinction. On the contrary, he says that
the birthright of the Israelites, as heirs of Abraham,
passed to that portion of the nation which, in his own
days, joined the Church of Christ. I, for instance,
am myself descended by the female line from such a
Jewish family. Now it is clear that the Prophets
speak of Israel as though it were the chief and first
of nations, and as though it inherited some peculiar
privilege, which no other people in the world en-
joyed. If this was designed to belong to that por-
tion of the Israelites which still held together as a
nation, then my family, and all which, like mine,
have melted into the body of the Church, has lost
its part of that pre-eminence which is promised by
the ancient Prophets. For the vast mass of Jewish
converts is no longer to be distinguished from
Christians of other origin. This notion, then, would
make that portion of the Jewish nation which St.
Paul asserts to have exclusively inherited the pro-
mises of Abraham, to have been the only one which
lost it. The error is very injurious; for the opinion
that the prophecies will still be fulfilled to their na-
tion as a separate body, and that by holding together
they will share in the promised grandeur of their

OH. XIV. PROPHECIES RESPECTING THE JEWS. 203

people, is what, more than aught besides, retains the
Jews in their impenitence."

" What is the meaning, then, of those predic-
tions," asked Rutilius, " which speak of the pro-
sperity of Israel ?"

"St. Paul has given us the interpretation of
them," said his companion, " when he tells us that
Jerusalem means the Church of God. And since
the Jewish system has been overthrown by their
exile from this land, in which only they could pro-
perly maintain it, his interpretation has been under-
stood not only to be the true, but to be the only
true meaning of that glorious name. It is but of
late that our people have begun to bestow the name
of Jerusalem at all upon this place, which, as you
know, id commonly called <£lia. If the Jewish
people had accepted our Lord's teaching, this city
might perhaps have borne a different part in the
new dispensation ; the Jews might have been taught
that their law had passed away in some manner less
awful than by the destruction of their city and tem-
ple. Yet I have heard one learned man observe that
there was a sort of providential order in the ruin
which befel this city ; for had it lasted, the natural
honour paid to our Lord's earthly home might have
produced for it a superstitious veneration. At pre-
sent the metropolis of the Christian world is felt to
be above, and no one city pretends to bear sway
over her sister Churches."

While his companion spoke, they were looking

204 RUTIL1US.

back upon the city-portal through which they had
lately passed ; and Rutilius asked the meaning of a
projection on the gate, which presented the unat-
tractive figure of a vast sow.

" Its object," replied his companion, " I can
hardly tell you. The Roman founders of this city
placed it there; but whether as an insult to the
former inhabitants of the place, or in connexion
with their own superstition, I know not. They
have certainly shewn, in many instances, that they
took pleasure in testifying their contempt for what
we consider sacred. I shewed you yesterday how
they had crowned the hill of Calvary; and the village
of Bethlehem, by which we travel, where the Virgin-
born saw the light, they have in like manner de-
voted to the impure rites of Adonis."

Rutilius was glad to learn the remarkable cir-
cumstances of the places by which they passed* At
Bethlehem he made some pause ; he saw the tomb of
Rachel on the right hand, half way between it and
Jerusalem ; and his companion did not leave him till
evening, when he rested near Manure, where the
patriarch Abraham had so long sojourned : of this
he saw a remarkable memorial — a tree of great age,
and near it a painting of three persons, the central
one the most distinguished, to which the inhabitants
of the adjoining country were accustomed to offer
sacrifices. At this place, his companion told him,
numbers of persons from all the adjoining regions
were accustomed to assemble, as well with a reli-

CH. XIV. PROPHECIES RESPECTING THE JEWS. 205

gious object, as for purposes of merchandise ; and
the figures were no doubt the remains of an an-
cient tradition respecting the supernatural visitants
of the patriarch.

Rutilius, now left to himself, accomplished his
journey to Joppa as speedily as he could, and thence
took ship for Alexandria.

CHAPTER XV.

&f>* ftUttinq toffy JKarttUnft. &f>e Bfecobrr?.
8%* Confession.

And On his brest a bloody crosse he bore,
The dear remembrance of his dying Lord,
For whose sweet sake that glorious badge he wore,
And dead as living ever Him ador'd :
Upon his shield the like was also scor'd,
For soveraigne hope which in His helpe he had.
Right, faithful, true, he was in deed and word ;
But of his cheere did seem too solemn sad ;
Tet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad.

Faery Quern.

Though the letter given by Zambda had contained
but few particulars, yet Rutilius could not repress
the conviction that it implied much more than it
expressed. What could be the secret which his
uncle designed to convey? During the leisure of
his voyage his mind was actively engaged in scanning
the different hypotheses which presented themselves
to his imagination. Was it only his uncle's marriage
to Flavia? Why should he, of all men, be summoned
to attend it? Why had it been so long delayed? Did
it connect itself with the apprehensions which the
Christians began unceasingly to entertain from the
well-known violence of Galerius ?

Such thoughts chased one another through his
mind as he came in view of the lofty pillar which
had lately been erected at Alexandria in honour of
Dioclesian (now called Pompey's Pillar). At ano-

CH. XV. THB MEETING WITH MARCELLUS. 207

ther moment, the sight of that ancient Nile, — on
the banks of which Pythagoras and Plato had drunk
in their secret learning, which had been famed in
Grecian song from the days of Homer to those of
Callimachus, — would have had charms enough for
his imagination. But his mind was now too com-
pletely engrossed to leave any scope to his imagina-
tion. Without thinking of the greatness of Alexan-
dria, of the fame of its founder, or of the wealthy
kings who had made it the seat of learning and art,
he landed, and speedily found himself in the dwel-
ling of Marcellus. The centurion was wrapped in
deep thought, and Flavia was at his side, when Ru-
tilius entered.

" You are just come in time," said the centurion
to him : "I have been assured, on good evidence, that
the catastrophe which I have been for some time ex-
pecting will take place to-morrow."

He was about to continue, but was interrupted by
Flavia, who sank fainting into his arms, exclaiming
only, in a faint voice, " My father!" Rutilius looked
so surprised, that when she had recovered, and
was able to leave the room, Marcellus could not
refrain from saying: " So you had never known
how near a relation I have to thank you for rescuing
from bondage.; and you are come in time to render
her further service. If I perish, as there is reason
to expect, in the persecution which will probably
break out to-morrow, 1 must trus,t to your care for
consigning her to the charge of her mother's kindred
in Gaul. My marriage in that country I was bound,

208 RUTILIUS.

by a promise to her uncle, to conceal : but I have
lately heard that he, like his sister, has become a
Christian, and if so, he will be anxious, by his kind-
ness towards my niece, to atone for his persecution
of her mother. To yourself also, if the report which
I have heard respecting you be true, I would counsel
a flight into the dominions of Constantius ; for I be-
lieve that he will not share in the cruelties which,
ere long, will probably be inflicted on the Christians.
It is well that you have not been formally admitted
into the emperor's service ; for it will enable you to
escape, at present, without compromising your new
principles, and thus to act a second time as the guar-
dian of my daughter."

The words of Marcellus threw light on so many
circumstances heretofore inexplicable, that Rutilius
stood for a time confounded, and could not muster
words for a reply. Perhaps his uncle in part divined
his feelings ; for, as though to relieve him, he went on
to state some further points which he wished to com-
municate. Their intercourse was long and confi-
dential ; and when Rutilius opened his own feelings,
and told how strongly he was now inclined to the
Christian faith, he found his uncle's confidence in-
crease in a corresponding manner. At length he
retired to rest ; but it was only an hour or two before
military music, and the sound of rejoicing, called
him up again, to take part in the joyful celebration of
the emperor's birth-day. He woke with a sudden
start, and was some time before he could well recall
the new circumstances which the preceding night had

CH. XV. THE CONFESSION. 209

disclosed to him. Marcellus was already gone forth,
when he descended from his room; and as Flavia
had not left her apartment, he walked forth to witness
the ceremonial of the day. After various military
manoeuvres, during which Rutilius found opportuni-
ties of conversing with several of his old associates,
he followed the main body of soldiers into a large
enclosure, which was set out for a public feast in
honour of the day. Marcellus was in a conspicuous
place, among those who were invited ; and though a
shade of sadness still sat upon his manly counte-
nance, yet Rutilius was at a loss to account for the
gloomy apprehensions which he had expressed. On
a sudden, the chief military officer of the district,
who presided on the occasion, arose and said, that it
was the emperor's pleasure that all who served under
his orders should join in sacrificing to the hereditary
gods, by whose gift success in arms was bestowed.
A dead silence ensued. At length one of the leading
centurions arose, and drawing near to an altar which
stood in a prominent position, in front of the whole
assembly he proceeded to make the customary offer-
ing. He was followed by another. A third suc-
ceeded: a fourth, who, as Rutilius heard it whis-
pered around him, was supposed to entertain in se-
cret the new opinions, advanced, though with evident
reluctance, and performed his part. What would
Marcellus do ? It came to his turn to make the de-
claration. All knew his principles ; and when the
tribune, who presided, turned towards him as the
next in order, each man looked at his neighbour, and

210 KUTILIU8.

every erne's breath seemed to be suspended for a mo-
ment. " Now Marcellus," said the tribune, "I know
how highly you are esteemed by our Caesar Galerius ;
let us see, in return, that you rightly estimate your
duty. Remember the preferments which await you,
and that honour and trust are the consequence of
faithful obedience."

" I do indeed remember it," replied Marcellus,
with an unhesitating voice ; " I remember that I owe
faithful obedience, as the soldier of Jesus Christ, my
eternal King. For these badges of distinction,"
throwing down his arms, and the vine-branch, his
ensign of office, " I renounce them. Your gods of
wood and stone, deaf and dumb idols, I will not wor-
ship. If such is the condition of service, that those
who fight for the emperor must worship his gods,
I will no longer bear arms."

General consternation followed this avowal. The
Christian soldiers — for many were present — looked as
though they might be induced to take the centurion's
part. But he surrendered himself at once to those
whom the tribune ordered to lead him to the ward-
room. His only words were addressed, in a low
voice, to Rutilius, as he left the place, " To your
care I leave Flavia."

The well-known circumstances which followed —
the execution of this faithful soldier of Christ, and the
general persecution which shortly ensued-— are not
subjects for this story. Those awful scenes of cruelty
and of grace are too sacred for description. Neither
were Rutilius and Flavia compelled for the present to

CH. XV. THB CONFESSION. 21 1

be further witnesses of such events : for as Rutilius
had never been actually enrolled in the imperial
army, and as the command to sacrifice extended at
present to the military alone, he was allowed to de-
part without molestation ; and thus had an opportunity
of conducting Flavia to her relations in Gaul, who
were living under the mild sway of Constantius.
Even here, however, the alarm of persecution, after
a time, extended itself. But the ordinary incidents
of domestic life do not well harmonise with such
heart-stirring events; and it is unnecessary there-
fore to say more than that Flavia was settled in her
uncle's house, until she finally agreed to choose the
partner of her former wanderings as her companion
during the longer journey of life.

LUCIUS;

OR,

Ci)e dfligftt of Contftantttu.

The time of the following story is from a.o. 303 to a.d. 305.
The public incidents are principally drawn from Laotantius de Morte Persecutorum.

Rome as a Goddess. From the Antique.

CHAPTER I.

$i)e Startoftl.

Tell me what brings you, gentle youth, to Rome?

Story qf St. Philip Nert.

"Of all people in the world, said old Herodotus,
the inhabitants of Ionia have to be thankful for the
fairest sky and most delicious seasons." Such was

216 lucius.

the remark of Lucius, as he was joined by the cap-
tain of the small ship in which he was, for the first
time, approaching the coasts of Asia. His companion
had walked to the prow of the vessel, where Lucius
had long been standing, and seemed to be calculating
whether the wind, which was bearing them quickly
towards the mouth of the Hellespont, would take
them through it. The headlands of Mount Ida began
to get more clear as the high ground of Samothrace
was melting away to the north-west. The captain's
thoughts were entirely directed to the discharge of
his cargo on the shore of the adjoining Propontis :

As when a pilot from among the Cyclades,
Delos or Samos first appearing, kens
A cloudy spot, down thither prone in flight
He speeds.

He gave little encouragement, therefore, to the

remark of the young Briton, for such Lucius was.

" Nay, Master Lucius, I am too busy to-day to think

of any of your old-world stories. I suppose you

would have me tell you, as when we were in that

stormy weather off Zacynthus, what was the name

of every headland. You put me beyond patience,

when you would tell me about your old poet, with

his

' Thy woods, Zacynthus, from the deep appear ;'

and about the voyagers who, going too near the
shore, heard the wood-nymphs proclaim that 'Pan
the great is dead.' "

•' The last story I don't vouch for," answered

CR. I. THE ARRIVAL. 217

Lucius, with a laugh, " however Plutarch may ; but
you, an Italian, and from Campania too, — it is a shame
that you should not know your own poet Virgil.
However, such a fine day as to-day, you may well
find time to tell me what these places are which we
are approaching."

M I know more about the wines of Campania,
which I hope to deliver to-morrow in the harbour of
Nicomedia," said his rough companion, " than about
any of your poets ; and I am too busy in calculating
how we shall get through this narrow channel of the
Hellespont to think of any thing else to-day."

Lucius knew by experience that nothing more
could be got from his unsociable companion ; and
wondering in himself at the little interest which was
felt by their own countrymen in those great spirits
with whom from childhood he had held familiar
intercourse, he turned away to make out what he
could by his own observations. Here was, no doubt,
the plain of Troy on his right hand, where the petty
events of a border contest had been enrolled by
imperishable genius among the unfailing records of
mankind. Further on, the town of Sestos, on the
European shore of the Chersonese, reminded him of
the insane ambition of Xerxes. Right across, where
the free waves were now covered with bounding
vessels, had been stretched that vast chain of boats
over which the human stream had been driven for
five, days and nights incessantly. How marvellous
that, from the very limits of India, men and animals
u

218 lucius.

should thus be poured over this wide channel for the
subjugation of another continent! He saw, at a
glance, what had often surprised him in the descrip-
tions of Homer, why the Hellespont is called broad.
As a sea, it is nearly the most narrow of any ; but
regarded as a river, and such it looks to those who
see it, its width is one of its striking character-
istics.

" And now," thought Lucius, " all this power of
Persia is passed away, and that of Greece, which fol-
lowed it ; and I come from the distant woods of Britain
to seek my fortune in the capital of another empire.
How strangely does the whole course of the world
seem to be gathered together in a point, when we
think of those few powers which, have ruled in it ;
and none mightier or more extended than this, which
sways in this distant East, and yet holds in subjection
my countrymen, of whom Virgil wrote, but in the
time of Augustus —

' The Briton, from the mighty world withdrawn !' "

Such thoughts led the young man towards the
consideration of his own fortunes ; and as he passed
the rich cities on the Asiatic shore, and saw their
lights beaming over the waters, long after nightfall,
the well-known feeling came over him, that in all
this tide of life there was nothing which had sympa-
thy with him ; and that if the little trader which had
brought him from Ostia were that night to sink in
the waves, his fate would be as little heeded by all

CH. I. THE ARRIVAL. 219

around him as the bursting of one of the bubbles
which were gleaming in the wake of the vessel.

" Why is it," he thought, " that Heaven has given
us this deep-seated desire to live in the hearts of
others — this earnest striving after an eternal being, if
this cold, selfish, fleeting world is gradually to chill
and starve us into apathy ? Must we be contented to
pass away, like the mighty powers which have ruled
in turn over this celebrated shore ? Yet their names
and fate live in history, — the fate of such as I am is
to be forgotten."

This feeling of desertion, which Lucius had never
known while still at a distance from the capital
where he was to seek his fortunes, recalled to his
thoughts what he had often heard from a cousin, of
about his own age, who had been brought up a Chris-
tian. " Can it be true," he said to himself, " as Paulus
used to tell me, that, go where they will, these Chris-
tians are treated at once as brethren? Their hope of
a future world, and their firm conviction that every
one has his individual share in it, must needs be a
great comfort to those who are able to believe it;
but this present community of feeling is a means of
putting at once to the test what is the reality of their
profession. Though not a Christian myself, yet the
letter which my cousin got for me, from the Bishop
of York to the Bishop of Nicomedia, will enable me
to learn how far this feeling of theirs goes."

Lucius had met at Capua with a philosopher
named Securus, who had told him that the Christian

220 lucius.

bishop would take no notice at all of him, unless be
was in a condition to make some return for his kind-
ness. Securus had instanced his own philosophy.
" I hold," he said, " the tenets of the Academics ;
just as your friend, who gave you this letter, does
; those of the Christians. Each is a kind of philoso-
phy ,— a set of opinions. But when I visit a new
country, 1 meet with no kindness from persons who
agree with me, unless they think my company plea-
sant or advantageous. Why should the Christians
act differently from other men ?" Lucius had thought,
at the time, that the philosopher spoke reasonably ;
but, in the want of some one to sympathise with him,
he opened his papers to look at the letter, which had
been given open, with a permission to peruse its
contents. The Bishop of York, from whom it came,
seemed to have no personal knowledge of the Nico-
median bishop : it was addressed —

" To the Lord Bishop Anthimus, our holy Bro-
ther, with whom we are joined in one soul. 1

" Though unknown to me in the flesh, my dear
brother in Christ Jesus, yet your hallowed labours
have long made me regard you as known; and
though absent in body, yet in spirit have I discerned
you. It is with satisfaction, therefore, that by letter,
at least, I can send you this familiar and brotherly
address. Nor is it strange if, though absent, we seem
to be near one another, and, though unknown, to have

1 The introduction of this letter is imitated from one ad-
dressed to St. Augustine, § 30.

CH. I. THE ARRIVAL. 221

a close acquaintance, seeing that we are members of
one body; that we have, as St. Paul speaks, one
common Head ; that we are imbued with one common
gift of grace; that one bread supports us both; that
we walk in one way, and inhabit that one house of
Christ's Church Catholic, in which all the brethren
are dwellers. Finally, whereunto we have already
attained, we press on, with whatsoever of faith and
hope has been our present succour, that we may enter
further into the same great reality ; not outwardly
merely, but in spirit do we seek to appreciate that
blessed unity of the Church, separate from which we
should be nothing."

The letter then proceeded to state, that though
the bearer was not a Christian, and not entitled, there-
fore, to those commendatory letters which were uni-
formly given by the bishop of every city to such
members of his flock as visited foreign countries, yet
that as a friend and relative of Christians, and as not
indisposed, at least not violently opposed, to their
principles, he was recommended to the prayers and
good offices of the bishop in whose diocese he was
about to dwell. " Perhaps," it was added, " when
this youth discerns what unity and affection there is
between the most distant members of the Christian
commonwealth — how they make up one family —
how their participation in one holy communion ren-
ders them a single body throughout the world, — he
may discern that this is the true supply of that want
u2

222 lucius.

of our nature which none are more likely to estimate
than strangers in a foreign country."

Lucius was struck with a sentiment which har-
monised so well with his own feelings ; and the reve-
rent look of the bishop, whom he had often seen in
his native town of York, with many a cherished train
of home-associations, mingled with his dreams long
after the little trader which bore him had emerged
from the narrow Hellespont, and entered the more
open bosom of the Propontis.

When Lucius rose next morning, he found that
the fine weather and the prosperous wind, promising
a speedy termination of their voyage, had produced
an effect even upon the sullen nature of the captain.
He pointed out where lay Byzantium and Chalcedon
to the north, between which opened the passage into
that dark and turbulent Euxine, of which he spoke
with no little horror ; and when at length they ap-
proached Nicomedia, he seemed as though he could
never dwell enough upon its objects of interest.

The situation of the place was sufficiently lovely.
The sun was fast declining as the vessel neared the
shore ; and while the buildings in the higher part of
the town were still lighted up by its refulgence, a
calm depth of shadow brooded over the great mass
of palaces, which mounted in regular steps up the
side of the semicircular hill which enclosed the place.
In front lay the sea, now perfectly placid, as though
die whole scene had been raised as an amphitheatre,

CH. I. THE ARRIVAL. 223

where the giant race of fable might witness some of
those aquatic exhibitions which were still displayed
in the Coliseum, before the admiring populace ot
Rome. The houses had none of that variety which
results from the varying wants of rich and poor, —
no paltry hovels alternating with the porticoes of the
great: the place bore marks of having grown up at the
call of the reigning emperor, and of the bulk and mag-
nificence of his designs. Yet the architecture shewed
that the purity of ancient taste had been superseded
by a pompous extravagance. Buildings were poor
and defective in their individual proportions, which
were massive and imposing in their general effect;
and to a close observer, the new capital which Dio-
clesian had built for the Roman empire might have
seemed an indication of the general restoration which
he had attempted in its policy. Increased show ; the
adoption of eastern manners and maxims ; the divi-
sion of the imperial power among four chiefs, who
were mutually to aid one another ; die transfer of the
seat of government to a place midway between the
European and Asiatic provinces, — all seemed to in-
dicate some grand designs; but they shewed, in
truth, that the Thracian soldiers, whom circumstances
had at this time made lords of the Roman world,
knew little of the principles by which the power ot
the empire had been built up and cemented. The
unity of Roman domination, its especial connex-
: ion with that city, which had so long swayed the
earth, the fated superiority of the eternal .name, —

224 'lucius.

all these were henceforth forgotten. Thus did God's
providence prepare the way for bringing forth that
new principle of unity which was already leavening
the earth.

Such thoughts, however, would at that time have
seemed premature, even to the Christian spectator ;
still less could they be looked for in the two persons
who, from the deck of their small vessel, were en-
joying the calmness of this beautiful evening. As
the wind had now nearly sunk, they scarcely moved
through the water; and they did not reach the land
till the moon had risen upon them, and cast her
light, first on the splendid temples at the summit of
the hill before them ; then on the palace, which lay
in its centre ; and, at last, on the beach towards which
they were tending.

The captain, who, notwithstanding his roughness
of manner, had begun to take considerable interest
in his passenger, was asking what prospects he had
at Nicomedia, and whether he had brought introduc-
tions with him. " The letter which you say you
have from the Caesar Constantius to his son Con-
stantine will no doubt be of great use to you. He
is well thought of by the soldiers, and in much favour
with the emperor Dioclesian himself."

" Besides this," said Lucius, " I have an intro-
duction from a near relation to Dorotheus, who, I
believe, is one of the emperor's chamberlains. There
has long been an intimacy, and, I believe, some con-
nexion between them. This prospect was the pecu-

CB. I. THE ARRIVAL. 225

liar inducement with my friends for sending me on
so distant a journey."

" If you can interest Dorotheus for you," said
his companion, " you may, no doubt, make your
fortune speedily. They say that no one has the
emperor's ear more completely. Have you brought
any other letters ? "

" I have one to Anthimus, the bishop of the
Christians."

" If what they talk of in Italy is true," said the
other, " that will do you no great good, if it comes
to the emperor's ears."

" Why ! what do they expect ? "

" When you land at Nicomedia," said the captain,
" you will hear enough about it ; and here comes
the boat which is to convey us on shore."

A kindly leave ended their short acquaintance ;
not without a promise, on the part of the young
Briton, that he would visit his seafaring friend, if he
could find opportunity. The trader went to seek
the merchant to whom his cargo was consigned, and
Lucius inquired the road which led to the palace.

CHAPTER II.

%%t palace.

The world thou hast not seen, much less her glory,
Empires and monarchs, and their radiant courts-
Best school of best experience, quickest insight,
In all things that to greatest actions lead.

Paradise Regained.

The interior of Dioclesian's palace was fitted to
increase the awe and admiration which his power
created among all the innumerable subjects of his
empire. Lucius, who had never seen a greater man
than the governor of York, was amazed at the size
of the palace-courts, at the number of soldiers who
filled them, at the crowd of attendants who were
moving in every direction, as well as at the magnifi-
cence of the porticoes, and the beauty of the statues
which ornamented the building. Both in the palace,
however, and in the streets through which he passed
to it, he had been struck by a degree of hurry and
anxiety, which he was disposed to attribute to his
own unacquaintance with such scenes.

But when he was introduced to Dorotheus, he
could not help feeling, notwithstanding the general
kindness with which he was received, that the em-
peror's favourite seemed to share the common in-

CH. II. THE PALACE. 227

quietude, and that something of moment was at hand.
Indeed, Dorotheus told him that he was arrived at
an anxious moment; that he hoped he might derive
advantage from his journey, hut that, at the present
time, all things were in peculiar uncertainty. A
friend came in while he was with the chamberlain,
and began to whisper Dorotheus, in a low voice, that
the messenger had returned from Miletus, and that
the answer which he brought was supposed to be of
an unpleasant kind. Their further conversation was
cut short by the entrance of a young man, of about
Lucius' own age, to whose care Dorotheus committed
him, stating that in a few days he should be placed
in some situation in the imperial service. Till that
time, it was arranged that Gallus, — such was the
young man's name, — should allow him to share the
apartment which he himself occupied in the palace.

The friend from whom he brought introductions
had prepared him to find Dorotheus a Christian;
this circumstance, perhaps, induced Gallus to inquire,
so soon as they left the chamberlain's presence, whe-
ther he was himself of that body.

' I am not," he answered ; " but why should you
take the trouble of asking the religion of a stran-
ger?"

" You know, I suppose," said Gallus, " how much
interest the subject creates at present."

" I am just from a long voyage, and am ignorant
what is passing."

" Has nothing travelled abroad, then, respecting

228 lucius.

those secret discussions which the emperors have been
holding all winter long, and which have created so
much alarm in this place? Though, like you, no
Christian myself, I have friends among them, and am
interested for their safety,"

This, then, Lucius found, was the cause of the
anxiety he had witnessed. On further inquiry, he
was told that throughout the winter the emperor
Dioclesian and his son-in-law, the Caesar Galerius,
had been continually shut up together in secret.
Something was evidently in preparation; and the
mother of Galerius had uttered expressions which
had alarmed the Christians. She was addicted to
various superstitious rites, and attributed her ele-
vation from her original state, as the wife of aDacian
peasant, to the favour of the gods of her native woods
and mountains. To them she held feasts at the very
time when the Christian members of her household
were celebrating their Lent-fast before the time of
Easter. Her anger had been particularly excited by
their refusing to partake in her festivities.

When the emperors had completed their private
deliberations, it was known that a council of officers
had been held ; and since that time a message had
been sent to the oracle of Apollo at Miletus. " Put-
ting all things together," Gallus said, " the Christian
population of Nicomedia was in a state of great an-
xiety, and anticipated some diminution of their pri-
vileges, if not the actual breaking out of a fresh
persecution." And considering how great was Dio-

CH. II. THE PALACE. 229

ciesian's power, and that he had evidently the pur-
pose of placing all the institutions of the empire upon
a new and more firm foundation, they feared lest, if
once resolved to injure them, he should aim at their
complete extermination. Galerius they knew was '
their enemy, — for he it was who had directed the
persecution against the Christian soldiers five years
before; but Dioclesian's was a milder nature, and
they had been allowed to build a handsome church
in one of the most conspicuous situations in his new
capital.

Lucius discussed these matters with Gallus for
some hours on the following day. Nor did he for-
get the other letters with which he was charged. But
Constantine, he found, was absent from Nicomedia ;
and as Anthimus was engaged in public worship, he
was requested to call on him early next morning.

Every day seemed to increase the expectation of
an approaching storm. People asked, when they
met one another, whether any thing had yet come of
those secret discussions. All that was known was,
that freth troops had arrived. " So ends the twenty-
second of February," said Gallus to his comrade,
as they retired for the night. " To-morrow is the
Terminalia ; I suppose you will go and see the cere-
monies. I should not wonder if the emperor was to
make it the Say for entering on some new attempt.
Old Terminus was always a limit both ways — the
place where the new and old world parted."

" I have promised to call very early on Anthi-
x

230 Lucius.

mus," said the young Briton, " and he is constantly
occupied from the time he goes to his worship ; but
I will join you afterwards."

The earliest dawn found Lucius on his way to
the house of Anthimus, which was near the Christian
church, at the summit of the town. To his sur-
prise he found the street already thronged with sol-
diers. As they were standing perfectly still, though
under arms, Lucius passed them, and ascended as
far as the Christian church, which lay somewhat in
front of the bishop's dwelling. But scarcely had he
got so far, when he heard an evident stir among the
soldiery in the street below him, though the light was
as yet so faint, that he could not discern its purpose.
Curious to see what they were doing at so unusual an
hour, he climbed up a flight of steps which led him
to a raised terrace in front of the western end of the
church. The principal door appeared to be on that
side, which commanded a view down one of the main
streets of the town. Having ascended the terrace,
he posted himself at the balustrade which ran along
its western edge, just above where the main street,
dividing itself into two smaller outlets, formed an
opening on" each side of the church. And now he
could see distinctly that the whole body of soldiers
were coming directly towards him. They must
clearly be intending, he thought, to pass along one
or both the streets which ran by this terrace ; and he
might as well remain here, — for in narrow places it is
ill jostling with such rude passengers. He sat down,

CH. II. THE. PALACE. 231

therefore, in a low seat, which was *o hidden in
the balustrade as completely to conceal him.

The first ranks passed quickly on, dividing right
and left, as they came up ; and Lucius was expecting
that the tide would soon flow by, when he heard a
party begin to ascend the steps by which he had
himself mounted. " Is it to surprise the Christian
church," he thought, " that this early march is in-
tended ? If so, I shall see, at all events, whether
there is any thing hidden in those places, which they
guard with so much care from the intrusion of stran-
gers." The notion prevailed so commonly, that the
Christians had some secret object of worship of a
hideous kind, with which none but the initiated were
acquainted, that it was with as much interest as
surprise that the young Briton now saw the sol-
diers approach the main gates of the church with
the evident intention of bursting them open. They
were fast closed, the hour of early worship not nav-
ing yet arrived. Their strong materials, the stoutest
timber from the neighbouring forests of Thrace,
were bolted together with great iron bars. For a
time the heavy strokes which four or five soldiers
gave them with sledge-hammers had no other effect
than to attract a crowd from the neighbouring streets.
But in a few minutes a person who seemed to be the
tribune in command ascended the steps, followed by
soldiers who carried one of those engines which the
Romans employed in the siege of cities. No sooner

232 lucius.

was it placed close to the folding-doors and plied by
levers, than they began visibly to shake, and a
moment after flew open, with such violence as to be
torn from their hinges. Instantly a crowd of sol-
diers rushed in. The building was empty ; but all
its furniture was ransacked and destroyed in a mo-
ment. A balustrade which ran across the middle
of the building was beaten down. The altar, which
stood near the eastern wall, then became visible.
It had at first been hidden by curtains which hung
from the balustrade ; and it was here apparently that
the soldiers expected to find some image or object
for which they were seeking. Lucius, who could
see what was passing within, was sufficiently ac-
quainted with the construction of a church to know
that this was the part to which strangers were not
commonly admitted; but he had now a proof that
they were not actuated by any superstitious regard
for a concealed image, but only by a natural rever-
ence for that place which was reserved for the more
special worship of the unseen God.

The soldiers, however, were only the more exas-
perated at discovering nothing. They overthrew
the altar ; the candlesticks they broke to pieces ; the
benches in the centre of the building, and the ambos,
or raised stands, whence the Scriptures were read to
the people, they beat down ; they burnt the rolls on
which the Scripture was written ; they broke open and
pillaged the sacristy ; — five minutes after the doors

CH. II. THB PALACE. 233

were burst, the whole interior was a ruin. Meanwhile
the tribune in command was standing in front of the
building, and seemed to hesitate in what way to de-
stroy it. Lucius, who was very near him, could see
him make signs to a party which was now visible on
a turret in the palace. They were evidently ob-
serving what passed, as the church was in so com-
manding a position as to be seen from the whole
town. From the situation of the turret, they mani-
festly came from the apartments of the emperor
himself. At first the tribune seemed to intend to fire
the building ; but, at a signal from the party on the
palace, he desisted, perhaps lest the flames should
spread into other quarters ; and after a short pause,
a body of engineers marched up, who carried with
them tools for its destruction. Lucius saw the work
begin ; but the crowd having now ascended the steps,
he was able to mingle with it unperceived; and it
being evidently no time for his intended visit, he
returned to his quarters in the palace.

" Well," said Gallus, when they met, " so old
Terminus has made a day of it, as 1 expected."

" Is Dorotheus much discomposed ?" asked the
Briton.

" He will be happy, if this is all that is designed,"
said the other ; " I see he looks on this as only the
commencement. "

Nothing more passed that day; but the next
morning, when the two young men were walking out
through the main square of the city, they were at-
x2

234 lucius.

tracted by a vast crowd, to which a new edict front
the emperor was exhibited. They got near enough
to read its contents.

" It is as I expected," said Gallus ; " all men
are publicly warned against professing themselves
Christians ; those who do so are declared incapable
of office or honour, are put out of the protection of
the law, and threatened with punishment."

Scarcely had Gallus spoken, when a man who
was nearest to the place where the edict was exhi-
bited, climbed up upon a railing, and cried out aloud,
" Is this a triumph over the Goths or Sarmatdans
which you are assembling us to proclaim ?" — at the
same time tearing down the emperor's edict from the
place to which it was affixed. The man was well
dressed, and evidently belonged to the higher ranks ;
but he made no opposition when a body of soldiers
rushed up and seized him. Lucius understood after-
wards that he was put immediately to a cruel death ;
but he did not witness what passed ; for Gallus, who
was afraid of a commotion, drew him off, and they
returned to the palace.

If it was from the Christians that Gallus ap-
prehended disturbance, his fears were unfounded.
Though very numerous in Nicomedia, as well as
throughout the neighbourhood, they offered no op-
position. The tearing down of the edict they con-
demned, as indicating a wish to create a popular
disturbance. In short, it seemed towards evening
as though matters were likely to go off quietly

CH. II. THE PALACE. 235

enough ; and Lucius could see that Dorotheus had
his hopes that, though somewhat circumscribed in
their privileges, and compelled to worship in greater
privacy, yet that the Christians would not suffer
more from this edict than from many which had
previously been pronounced against them, and that
the emperor's wrath would be allayed by their
peaceable submission.

In this expectation, Lucius and his friend Gallus,
whose success in the emperor's court depended much
on the influence of Dorotheus, passed the evening
more cheerfully than for some time, and continued
in conversation till a late hour. The night was dark
and stormy. Before going to bed, Lucius looked
forth, and occasional flashes of lightning shewed
him the vast pile of building which lay opposite to
that part of the palace where he was himself sta-
tioned. It was appropriated to the household of
Galerius ; while that in which he himself was stand-
ing connected with the apartments of Dioclesian. By
one of these occasional flashes, he could see a consi-
derable number of persons coming across towards
his own portion of the building.

Gallus, to whom he mentioned what he saw, took
little notice of it. The palace-gates, he said, were
watched ; and these were only some late revellers re-
turning from the quarters of Galerius.

At length Lucius lay down, but not to sleep.
The strange scene he had witnessed the day before —
the decree of the morning — the influence it might

236 lucius.

hare on his own fortunes, — these subjects long dis-
turbed his rest. At length he slept; but still the
same thoughts returned and mixed with the tempest,
which was raging without. The men whom he had
seen in the palace-court were rushing on, he thought,
as the soldiers had done the day before. His own
room was the point at which they were attacking
the palace. Now they were firing it, as the tribune
had prepared to do the church. In an instant the
flames seemed to burst up before him — it was the
lightning which was flashing across the sky. He
woke up. It could not be lightning, for the glare
continued. And now he smelt the smoke. It must
be so. The palace was on fire. He sprung up.
Gallus was roused in a moment. The alarm was
given without. He thought he saw some persons
hurrying away towards the quarters of Galerius.
Perhaps they were gone to procure help. In a few
minutes a large body of soldiers were assembled in
the square of the palace. , The fire, which had
threatened at first to consume the whole building,
was got under, after consuming a considerable num-
ber of rooms, and amongst them that which Lucius
had occupied. He had only time to dress himself,
when the fire drove him forth, leaving every thing
which he had with him to be destroyed.

The next day was a melancholy time to Lucius.
The little money which he had brought with him
from home had been expended, so soon as he reached
Nicomedia, on such clothes as were wanted for the

CH. II. THE PAL ACS. 237

palace. All these, except a single suit, had perished
in the conflagration. His papers and letters had also
been destroyed. And what made matters worse, his
patron Dorotheus, who might easily have made up
these losses, was not likely to have the power of ren-
dering any further assistance. Popular rumour at-
tributed the fire to the Christians. They took that
way, it was said, to express their discontent. The
emperor publicly declared that all his household
should shew that they worshipped the ancient gods.
From a hiding-place in the palace, to which Gallus
had conducted him, Lucius could see an altar raised
in a conspicuous place, to which the empress Prisca
and the princess royal Valeria were obliged publicly
to approach and offer sacrifices. They were known,
Gallus said, to favour the Christians ; and their man-
ner shewed how unwillingly they performed their
part.

After them the officers of the household were
ordered to give the same test of submission. The
emperor declared that he would inflict the most cruel
punishment on those who refused. Already prepa-
rations were made for atrocities at which the heart
revolted. Instruments of torture were brought forth;
and the ferocious beings by whom it was wont to be
inflicted seemed as if they were already gloating over
the agonies of their victims. On the other side stood
various persons who were known to be Christians,
and some on whose countenances might be read a
steady look of unconquerable resolution. Dorotheus

238 Lucius.

would certainly not submit. And though neither
Lucius nor Gallus would themselves have objected
to sacrifice, yet they were liable to be accused of
setting fire to the palace. This charge Galerius
made against all the attendants of the Christian
chamberlain; and he was himself conducting the
inquiry with the greatest cruelty. Lucius could not
help supposing afterwards, that the event had been
brought about by his own emissaries; especially
when, a fortnight later, he heard that a second fire
had broken out. Some, indeed, referred it to the
lightning; but he remembered that the persons whom
he had seen coming just before the fire were evi-
dently crossing from the quarters of Galerius. These
were later thoughts At present the two young men
were occupied only with the best means of escape.
Lucius would gladly have returned home ; but his
money was expended. He was disgusted at the
cruelty of the punishment, which he was told had
been inflicted on the poor man the day before, who,
it was said, had been burnt to death, and at the
threats, which the emperor had just uttered, of simi-
lar punishments against the Christians. At all events,
he was resolved to quit the palace, and not witness
the cruel scenes which were about to pass there. He
asked Gallus, who was resolved at every hazard
to remain, and run the risk of procuring another
protector, to guide him out of the place. Gallus,
whose long service gave him a knowledge of all the
recesses of the palace, conducted him by a secret

CH. II. THE PALACE. 239

passage which led close to the emperor's own apart-
ment, and then let him out by a little postern.

" No one," said Gallus, " knows this passage,
save my master Dorotheus and myself. See you
keep my secret."

He shut the door; and Lucius was once more
walking a solitary man in the streets of Nicomedia.

CHAPTER III.

$fie ©mounter.

Him in a narrow place he overtooke, •

And fierce assailing forc'd him turn again :
Sternely he turn'd again, when he him strooke
With his sharp steel, and ran at him amain
With open mouth, that seemed to contain
A full good pecke within the utmost brim,
All set with iron teeth in raunges twain,
That terrified his foes, and armed him,
Appearing like the mouth of Orcus' grisly grim.

But Caledore, thereof no whit afraid,
Rencountered him with so impetuous might,
That th' outrage of his violence he staid,
And bet aback, threatening in vain to bite,
And spitting forth the poison of his spight,
That foamed all about his bloody jawes,
Though rearing up his former feet on hight,
He ramp'd upon him with his ravenous pawes,
As if he would have rent him with his cruel claws.

Faery Queen.

When Lucius left the palace he walked on for a time,
scarcely heeding in what direction he went. The
preparations which he had beheld, the scenes which
he expected, swallowed up his thoughts. It might
have been long before he recovered himself, had he
not been hailed in a rough voice —

" Master Lucius, how go your prospects at the
palace ?"

He turned round, and saw the coarse but friendly

CH. HI. THE ENCOUNTER* 241

features of the captain with whom he had come to
Nicomedia. The sight nearly overcame him. With
difficulty could he state what had happened. The
blunt sailor listened with interest.

" If my vessel were ready for sea," he said, " I
would take you back to-morrow for nothing; but it
will be a month or more before my cargo is col-
lected, and in the meanwhile the ship is laid up in
dock."

" I scarce know where to go," said Lucius — "for
my letter to Constantine was burnt in the palace —
unless it be to the bishop of the Christians."

" That is not the safest of places just now," said
the sailor ; " but it may do for a while ; and when my
sb'p is ready, you shall be welcome to a passage back
to Ostia."

Lucius thanked his rough companion ; and though
he remembered that for a pennyless man it was a
long journey from Italy to Britain, he felt the gloom
of his prospects somewhat abated. But how to be-
stow himself in the meantime ? He determined to
have recourse to Anthimus, and to try how far the
charity of a Christian would extend itself.

A second time, therefore, he was at the house of
Anthimus, who now happily was at home. He was
shewn into the presence of a reverend-looking man
of advanced age, whose countenance, displaying a
blended look of kindness and of sorrow, at once af-
fected and encouraged him.

" What want you, young man, with me V 9 said

Y

242 Lucius.

the bishop : " from your dress, you seem to come
from the palace. Are you the bearer of any order
from the emperor? — you will find me as little dis-
posed to resist as to fly."

Lucius hastened to declare that he was himself a
fugitive.

" You come, my son, but to a poor place of
refuge."

The young man, thus encouraged, told his tale,
and that he was the bearer of a letter from the Bi-
shop of York, which he had lost in the fire of the
preceding night. Already, he said, he had been up
to deliver it. Anthimus shewed deep interest in the
fortunes of the Church in Britain.

" I would," he said, " that we could live with
the same confidence here, which prevails under the
mild sway of Constantius; but the Lord reigneth.
My office, young man," he concluded at last, " is to
shew hospitality to all men ; and though not one of
our own Christian family, yet you are welcome to
such as I can give, and while I have it to bestow."

They were interrupted by a person who came to
entreat the bishop that he might that day be admitted
to the Holy Communion.

" You were publicly convicted," said the bishop,
" of adultery only half a year ago ; the sentence of
our fathers, by which you would have been excluded
from the Holy Communion during seven years, was
shortened to three years, on your giving signs of
a sincere repentance. For three years only are

CH. III. THE ENCOUNTER. 243

you to continue with those without the church in
daily fasting and penitence. This is for your own
benefit, as well as for the sake of example; for if
you were allowed at once to approach the holy
table, you would be in danger of coming with a
carelessness, which would increase your guilt. You
need some severe lesson to remind you of the great-
ness of your crime. What reason, then, can you give
why you should be admitted so early to absolution ?"

The penitent pleaded the danger of the times — the
probability of a persecution — that he might be cut off
without the sign of forgiveness or the bread of life.

" So much," said the bishop, "I am ready to
allow, that in case of sickness or danger, any priest
may reconcile you to the Church. But times of per-
secution are rather fitted to increase than to relax
the rigour of discipline. For, whence comes this
visitation upon us, but because our discipline has
been allowed to languish ? Is not God calling us by
it to an increased watchfulness ? Has He not sent
this judgment upon us because our love has grown
cold ? Look at the times of our fathers, and you
will find that it has always been when the Christian
body has been exercised with the greatest outward
trials that its inward life has been most vigorous and
entire."

Lucius was surprised to find, from the rest of the
conversation, that the man who was thus rejected
was a person of wealth and influence, who volun-
tarily submitted to stand at the door of the Christian

244 lucius.

church when the more favoured worshippers entered
into it.

Anthimus took occasion from this circumstance
to acquaint him that, as a heathen, he could not con-
sider him as a part of his family, or allow him to
share its daily worship — unless, indeed, he was will-
ing to become a catechumen, and to prepare himself
for baptism ; but that he might continue to live under
his roof, " so long," said the old man, " as it pleases
God to leave me one." Here, therefore, Lucius
resolved to continue till an opportunity should offer
for rejoining his friends.

To dissipate the unpleasant thoughts to which
his situation gave occasion, Lucius determined next
morning to explore the adjoining coast. He set off
with the earliest dawn ; and, depressed and agitated
as he felt from the failure of all his hopes, he had
no sooner cleared the town, and begun to breathe
the balmy air of the adjacent hills, than his youthful
spirits revived. The novelty of all that he saw round
him — the singular dress of the peasants — the magni-
ficence of the buildings which were yet visible — kept
him in perpetual delight. Never having left home
before, and having derived all his knowledge from
books, every object which he now beheld seemed to
present to him a new phase of life. He pictured to
himself the pleasure with which he should recall these
distant scenes when he was again settled in the quiet
simplicity of some British dwelling.

With these thoughts he walked on, determining

CH. III. THE ENCOUNTER. 245

to reach an elevated brow, which stood prominently
forth among the woods which he had now entered.
He had brought with him sufficient provisions for
the day ; so that it was needless to turn back till the
sun had passed its zenith. But as he advanced, the
way became more difficult, till at last he found him-
self completely brought to a standby a wall of rocks
which ran through a wild part of the forest. It was
evidently a natural barrier which opposed him ; and
yet there was some appearance that it had been
strengthened by human art. In one or two places,
where he thought he might find a passage, it seemed
as if ravines had been blocked up by artificial means.
At length, however, by climbing into the top branches
of a tree which grew adjacent to the rocks, he reached
their summit. The view on the other side convinced
him that he had trespassed upon one of those exten-
sive enclosures which the habits of the East reserved
as hunting-places for the emperor. Before him lay
an open lawn of grass, interspersed with occasional
clumps of trees, on which deer of various sorts were
feeding, with buffaloes and other animals, which
were quite new to him. Beyond, a most beautiful
prospect opened itself, — the high land which he had
before seen, rising abruptly at its conclusion out of
a dark forest. The whole space before him, from
the mountains on the one side to the sea on the other,
had no signs of being inhabited, though the villages
which crowned various wooded promontories which
he saw projecting into the sea, on his left hand,
y 2

246 lucius.

shewed how populous was the adjoining neighbour-
hood. But this was beyond the limits of the royal
chase, which ended in a bay at a few hundred
yards from him, where the rocks on which he was
standing descended sheer into the water from a great
height. Lucius made his way for a short distance
along their summit ; but he was soon brought to a
stand, at a point where a small village, divided from
him only by a deep but narrow inlet, presented a
most attractive halting-place.

As no boat was in sight, and he did not feel dis-
posed to swim over without occasion, he sat down
upon the rocks to make his repast on the provisions
he had brought with him. While doing so, his atten-
tion was roused by a noise in an arched part of the
rock beneath him. He knew that in these royal
parks wild beasts were kept, as well as smaller
game ; and descending the rock half-way, he could
see, as he expected, that the den in which a lion was
secured, lay underneath him. It was a favourable
opportunity for watching the habits of this monster
of the desert, which had been purchased from the
Indian borderers, and was now roaming about a na-
tural cavern of considerable extent, enclosed only on
the outside by a grating. With the aid of the hunt-
ing-spear which he carried with him, Lucius let him-
self down into the neighbourhood of the monster.
But while thus occupied, a noise at a distance re-
called to him the danger of being found within the
emperor's hunting-ground. Concealing himself be-

CH. III. TriE ENCOUNTER. 247

hind a large tree, which grew close to the den, he
saw a party approach, who had been employed ap-
parently in the pursuit of smaller game. Their chief,
whom Lucius knew at once to be the Caesar Gale-
rius, was accompanied by a younger man, whom he
seemed to treat with considerable attention. The
Caesar's companion wore a soldier's dress, and his
appearance bespoke resolution without ferocity. His
tall and manly figure was set off by an open and
attractive countenance. His age appeared to be that
in which the activity of youth had lately ripened into
the firmness of manhood. He might be somewhat
under thirty ; and if a broad and sinewy frame pro-
mised great strength, yet the management of his
horse shewed it to be equalled by his agility.

Lucius had good opportunity for observing the
two first persons in the party ; for when they came
opposite the den, they reined up their horses.

Galerius, turning to the other, said : " Here is
the wild beast I promised to shew you ; look at him
well, and see if you hold to what you asserted, that a
brave man, well armed, would be too much for him."

The beast seemed as if he divined what was pass-
ing; for he opened his enormous mouth with a wide
yawn, and then suddenly changing, like the sea
during a hurricane, from rest to fury, he erected his
shaggy mane, drew up his wrinkled lips and dis-
played his vast teeth, as with a short deep snarl he
rushed against the bars of his den. Galerius's horse
started aside at the sound, so that, though a good

248 Lucius.

horseman, he was nearly dismounted ; but the other
did not seem daunted.

" What I said, 1 will maintain," he answered,
" that with this couple of good hunting-spears I
should not hesitate, were there any necessity, to
attack this monster of the forest."

Lucius could see from his hiding-place, that in the
sinister features of Galerius there was a mingled ex-
pression of malignity and satisfaction which augured
no good to his companion.

" Why, you should have been the grandson of
Maximian yourself," he said ; " for you have a better
right to his name of Hercules than any of your father's
other sons."

" The son of Constantius," said the other haught-
ily, " needs no higher descent."

" And yet," said Galerius, with a sneer, " I have
a shrewd notion that you would gallop for it as well
as any one, if we were to turn this creature out to
try the sharpness of our hunting-spears. I can see
that you are getting ready to make off as soon as the
den shall be opened."

Galerius's insinuation evidently provoked his
companion; for, without deigning any reply, he
alighted to put something right which was out of
place in his bridle. Galerius pretended not to see
that he was dismounted ; and, riding close to the den,
drew back its bolt, so as to allow the beast a passage.

" Now, Constantine," he cried, turning round to-
wards him, " mount, and keep clear of his first spring 1"

CE. III. THE ENCOUNTER. 249

« His companion looked back, and saw the door of
the den open, at a few paces behind him. If he at-
tempted to mount, he felt assured that the lion would
be upon him before he gained his saddle : indeed the
beast seemed as though in act to spring. Happily
be had rested his two hunting-spears against the
fore-quarter of his horse, within reach of his arm.
Grasping one of them, he threw it with so just an
aim, that it wounded the lion in a mortal part. But
the huge monster had strength left for one fatal
bound against his opponent. His victim, however,
was not unprepared. Springing sideways to the
great tree which grew near the den, he received the
beast upon his remaining spear, the back part of
which he rested upon its roots. Though its stock
was thick, and intended apparently for such a pur-
pose, yet such was the weight of the animal that
Lucius, as he stood behind the tree, could hear it
crack and break. The rock rising too abruptly on
the other side of the tree to allow the man to ascend,
he could do nothing but slip aside into the narrow
crevice which intervened between the tree and the
den, and called out to Galerius to throw him his
hunting-spear, that he might despatch the creature.
But Galerius, who, when he ^opened the door, had
motioned his followers to some little distance, kept '
aloof himself, crying out, whether truly or not, that
his horse was frightened by the affray. His com-
panion's horse had galloped off at the first spring of
the lion. The beast would in a moment have de-

250 Lucius.

spatched his now unarmed opponent, had not Lucius,
at the instant, quitted his hiding-place, and presented
his hunting-spear through the crevice, which, at a few
feet from the ground, was wide enough to admit his
arm. It came just in time. The man, who had re-
treated as far back as he could, caught it with his
left hand, and thurst it down the throat of the beast,
as it once more flew open-mouthed upon him. Its
expiring strength yielded before his vigorous arm,
and the creature lay dead before him. 1

He had now time to think of his deliverer, whose
situation he understood in a moment. " Save your-
self," he said, " if you can, among the rocks behind;
and remember that it is the prince Constantine who
is your debtor." Lucius saw his danger ; for Gale-
rius and his attendants were by this time coming up,
and the service which he had rendered to Constan-
tine was not likely to conciliate the Caesar towards
an intruder ; he must look to himself, therefore, for
escape. On the side where he stood, nothing but a
single rock intervened between the cavern and the
precipice, which overhung the sea. In that part it was
tolerably accessible, so that, springing up it, he was

1 " II [Galere] l'exposa [Constantin] auxbetes, sons prttexte
de divertissement et d'exercice. Praxagore, auteur paien, qui a
fait en deux livres l'histoire des premieres annees de Constan-
tin, et qui ecrivait, selon Vossins, de son temps m§me ou sons
ses enfans, dit que Galere l'obligea de combattre contre on
lion furieux, dont il vint neanmoins a bout, et le tua." — Tille-
mont, Conttantin, § 6.

CH. III. THE BNCOUNTEB. 251

at the top in a moment ; and before the huntsmen,
who shouted so soon as they saw him, could let fly
their arrows, he had plunged from the cliff into the
sea. He threw himself as far forward as possible,
fearing only hidden rocks ; and the splash which he
made as he sunk into deep water was the only indica-
tion to his pursuers of his course. He had been well
accustomed to this exercise on the bold coasts of his
own country, and had often leapt, for sport, from
rocks as lofty ; so that he found no difficulty in turn-
ing, so soon as he was under water, and in emerging
close to the shore, where projecting rocks covered
him above. He floated here, with nothing but his
head above water, till he heard the hunters gradually
leave the rocks ; some intimating that he was a water-
god, who had come to aid prince Constantine, and
others that he had been entangled in the weeds at
the bottom. None ventured to follow him down the
cliff; and as the face of the rocks formed a promon-
tory in the sea, no view could be obtained of them
except from the opposite shore. To it Lucius swam
so soon as all his pursuers were departed ; and re-
turned home with no loss, save that of his favourite
hunting-spear.

The next morning brought the news that Con-
stantine had returned to his quarters near Nicomedia,
and that on the preceding day he had slain a lion, by
the especial aid, as some said, of Castor and Pollux.
Anthimus, who knew of Lucius's prospects, was
now the first to advise that he should try and gain

252 Lucius.

admission to the prince. Never did the young man
more grudge the loss of his letters than when he
found himself at the quarters, of Constantine's legion,
and was refused admittance unless he would state his
business. But here his British birth stood him in
stead. He said he was a subject of Constantius, a
native of York, one of his favourite cities, and that
he had a special errand for the emperor's son. But
when this point was gained, and he was admitted to
the prince's tent, how should he begin ? His embar-
rassment was over when he saw his own hunting-
spear, the companion of his sports at home, in the
corner of the tent. Going up to it, he said, as he
made obeisance to the prince : " I am come to reclaim
my favourite weapon." Constantine instantly recog-
nised his friend of yesterday. After blaming him for
the risk he had encountered in entering the emperor's
hunting-ground, " I had anticipated," he said, " from
the inscription on your weapon, that you were from
my father's province, and felt doubly interested in
your escape."

Lucius, thus encouraged, told his whole history;
that his recommendations to Constantius had perished
in the fire at the palace ; and that, failing in his
hopes from Dorotheus, he was at present dependent
on the charity of the Christian bishop."

" You are yourself then, I presume, a Christian?"
said Constantine.

" No, I am not," said Lucius ; "though the charity
which has been exercised towards a stranger like

THE ENCOUNTER.

253

myself is a powerful argument with me in favour of
the Christians."

" It is well that you remain as you are," said
Constantine. " The emperors orders do not allow
me to prefer any man to military rank who does not
sacrifice to the tutelary gods. But come with me
to-morrow : to say nothing of the service you have
already rendered me, I shall be glad to be accom-
panied by one of my father's subjects."

Priapus. From the Antique.
Z

Vide p. 69.

CHAPTER IV.

Z\t Conflagration.

Noise, call you it, or universal groan,

As if the whole inhabitation perished ?

Blood, death, and deathful deeds, are in that noise,

Ruin, destruction, at the utmost point.

Samson AgonUtes.

With, a joyous heart did Lucius leave Nicomedia a
few days ■ after the last conversation, riding in the
train of Constantine, and already entrusted with a
command among his troops. The short period since
his arrival at the capital had been so prolific in inci-
dents, that he could scarce believe that but a month
previously he had sailed into its harbour full of ex-
pectation from the pleasures and interests of a palace
and a great city. And now he left them, sick of the
heartlessness of the one, and of the solitude which
he had experienced amidst the crowded streets of the
other. Far different was his life in the service of
Constantine. He was stationed with a small force in
a somewhat wild part of Phrygia, where his office
was to guard against those predatory incursions which
were occasionally made by bands of brigands from
the north-eastern portion of Asia Minor. Here his
time passed pleasantly enough, in a cheerful and
rather romantic country, while his business led him

CH. IV. THE CONFLAGRATION. 255

to pay occasional visits to the adjoining towns. Dur-
ing one of these he fell in with a person whom he
had formerly met with in the house of Anthimus.
He remembered that on that occasion the man's ap-
pearance had marked him out as a person of distinc-
tion, and there was still something striking in his
manner, though his dress was now squalid and ne-
glected. The man evidently avoided him, until ac-
costed in a friendly manner, and reminded of the
place of their meeting.

" In such times as these," he then said, " every
one whom we meet, but especially those who bear
any public office, may be seeking our lives."

Lucius immediately understood that he was flying
from persecution, and was glad to hear something
respecting the events in the capital, concerning
which little had found its way into that remote
neighbourhood.

" All the great towns," said the man, " all Syria
and Egypt, are one scene of slaughter. Anthimus,
the excellent bishop, at whose house I met you, has
been beheaded. The emperor's attendants, Doro-
theus and others, who were most in his favour, have
not been allowed so easy a death. They have
perished either by torture or by fire. Several hun-
dred, after being cruelly tortured, have been sent,
mutilated or maimed, to the mines. And I only,"
he added, " have escaped alone to tell thee."

Lucius now found fresh causes for thankfulness
at having been removed from the sight of such an

256 lucius.

afflicting scene. In his secluded region he had heard
nothing but that many Christians had been punished,
and their worship prohibited.

" In this country," he said to the Christian, " your
opinions have not spread at all through the villages ;
and the small towns which lie to the northward of
us are so shut off from all communication, that I
have heard of no attempt at enforcing the emperor's
edict there. Indeed, I know not whether they con-
tain any Christians."

His companion made no reply, and seemed to
shun further conversation. But Lucius, who was
pleased with his manners, and thought from his ap-
pearance that he needed assistance, would not allow
himself to be thus repulsed. Calling up his servants,
who were leading a spare horse, he insisted that the
wanderer should mount, and ride with him. As they
were crossing one of those barren plains which are
to be found in the heart of Phrygia, the traveller
could not refuse to accept his offer.

" Wearied as you plainly are," said Lucius,
" you will scarce be able on foot to reach a resting-
place before night."

They soon approached a wooded glen, where the
servants of 'Lucius produced the provisions which
they had brought for the day's meal; and the
stranger's appetite shewed that he had cause to be
thankful for Lucius's kindness. He had been wan-
dering for some time in utter destitution, having
allowed to escape, from torture by the sacrifice

CH. IV. THE CONFLAGRATION. 257

of his whole property, and was on his way to seek
shelter with some distant relations. When his strength
was somewhat restored by food, he grew communi-
cative, and gave a more detailed account of the fearful
scenes which had been passing in all the great cities
of the East. The young Briton made no scruple of
expressing the favourable impressions which had been
produced upon him by what he had himself witnessed
in the house of Anthimus, and deplored the feroci-
ties into which the seemingly mild nature of Diocle-
sian had been betrayed.

" You must abandon, however," he added, " the
confidence which your party used to express, that
your system could not be suppressed, and that the
power of Rome would be put to the worst before it."

" By no means," said the Christian; "we are but
the more filled with the confidence which we ever
possessed."

" Are not your churches shut up or destroyed ?
Is not your public worship at an end ? Are not your
bishops put to death, or banished to the mines ? Are
you not blotted out of the nations ? You have just
told me that the emperor designs to erect a column
in memory of the utter extinction of the Christian
name."

At the moment when Lucius uttered these words,
the travellers had reached a more cultivated part of
the plain, where a few enclosed spots had lately been
sown with maize. The Christian pointed towards
them, and said, " What if winter were here to set up
z 2

258 Lucius.

his icy columns in token of his. victory over last
year's herbage ? We have a proverb, ' the blood of
the martyrs is the seed of the Church.' So will the
emperor find it. But the greatness of Rome, its
wealth and fame, are doomed, as your own prophets
declare, to a speedy overthrow ; and the temporary
victory of antichrist makes me believe it at hand."

" But what are your people doing?" said Lucius ;
" which of them has made any opposition ? Have
they not submitted in silence to the emperor's com-
mand?"

" The Christians have offered no opposition to the
emperor's laws, because they are taught to honour
every ordinance of man for the Lord's sake. No- *
thing can be more at variance with their principles
than that stubborn resistance to oppression, and that
love of independence, which heathen writers so highly
praise. These they leave to worldly men; yet you
would find that they were never more firmly joined
together in one body than at present ; nor was their
faith ever stronger in the permanent existence of
their Church."

" What proofs do they give of it ?" said Lucius.

" The interest they take in one another's endur-
ance is a proof of that united feeling which is the
never-failing sign of Christ's Church ; and their faith
is shewn by their enforcing, even more strongly than
at other times, those rules of discipline which ex-
clude offenders from their communion."

Lucius remembered the scene which he had wit-

CH. IV. THE CONFLAGRATION. 259

nessed in the house of Anthimus, and was curious to
learn something further on the subject, " Perhaps,"
said his companion, " I may be able to give you
some proof of this, if you are making any stay in the
town which we are approaching."

Their arrival at the town where Lucius meant to
halt broke off their conversation ; but during the days
he remained there, he had several opportunities of
meeting the Christian. The stranger, had found
friends in this distant quarter, and seemed no longer
in want. " You know," he said, " that we Chris-
tians have every where connexions : our baptism is
a tie of brotherhood; and though my relations have
removed from the neighbourhood, yet I have been
received as a brother." Lucius was impressed with
a circumstance which harmonised so well with the
letter which he had brought from home, and pressed
to know more of persons who had among them so
attractive a principle, in which the world around
was so grievously defective. " I have neither friends
nor relations within some thousand miles," he said,
" though there are many who pretend good-will to
me, now that I am a prince's favourite ; yet I would
fain know something of persons who have this
friendly feeling towards a fugitive. It must be a
strange thing, this baptism of yours, which makes all
men of one blood."

The Christian was at first unwilling to make him
acquainted with the place to which his brethren re-
sorted. " Though no open persecution has commenced

260 lucius.

here, yet we think it prudent to meet in secrecy,
lest we draw on us the attention of the magistrates."
When satisfied that Lucius was not actuated by any
unfriendly motive, and informed that in Britain he
had occasionally been present at parts of the Chris-
tian service, he took him as a spectator of the more
public portion of their worship. It was conducted in
a cavern near the town ; and Lucius observed that the
prayer for the emperor, which he had heard formerly
in Christian churches in Britain, was not discontinued.
When looking round on the assembly, he felt con-
vinced that many persons were present who must be
visitants from distant parts. He told his surmise to
his fellow-traveller, when they met next day, and
asked him likewise, what were the rules of discipline
to which he had alluded in their first conversation.

" That, I think, I can shew you," said the other,
" if you will go with me to a house where the bi-
shops and clergy of the neighbourhood will shortly
assemble."

Lucius accompanied him. Two bishops were
present, sitting on raised seats in front ; behind them
sat the priests ; the deacons and people stood around.
The persons whom Lucius had seen the preceding
evening, and taken to be strangers, were there. The
sutgect in discussion proved to be, whether these
persons might be admitted to the Holy Communion.
This the bishops were to decide. They occasion-
ally referred to the priests ; but the deacons and
people took no part, except as spectators.

CH. IV. THE CONFLAGRATION. 261

" You, my friends," said one of the bishops,
" have come to us from various cities, having either
undergone, or fled from persecution. But since the
martyrdom of our holy brethren, the bishops of your
several Churches, prevents you from bringing us com-
mendatory letters, as proofs that you are indeed
members of the Church's communion, and since it
is said that some have failed in the fiery trial, and
therefore need the discipline of repentance before
they can be admitted to their place as members in
the Lord, we desire to learn what has befallen each
of you."

The first who came forward was a man of re-
verend appearance, who was evidently suffering from
some great bodily infirmity, as it was only with the
help of two persons that he could advance into the
circle. " I bear about me," he said, " the marks of
the Lord Jesus," at the same time shewing his foot,
which had been so cruelly burnt as to render him a
cripple for life. " They demanded the sacred books
for the fire- — those ' useless writings,' as they pro-
fanely called them. * You may burn me,' I replied.
By favour of one of the emperor's officers I was
dismissed thus mangled."

Respecting this person's acceptance there was no
question. He was followed by two others, who
.seemed to be regarded with more doubt. " We have
heard respecting you, my brethren," said the bishop,
" that though you suffered great cruelty from the
heathen, yet that at last you took that which was

262 lucius.

profane in your hands, even if you did not defile your
mouths with words of treachery."

The persons to whom this was spoken stood next
to one another, but their different manner indicated
that their condition was widely distinct. Both were
elderly men of serious and thoughtful countenance.
Both had the appearance of having suffered bodily
injury. In neither was there any shade of self-con-
ceit. But while one was calm, quiet, and cheerful,
the other was evidently labouring under some deep
and disturbing emotions. The former spoke first.
" I can call God to witness," he said, " that no words
of mine, nor even my silence, gave any countenance
to what was done by the heathen. When I was
brought before the judge, I refused to sacrifice, as
those around me witnessed; and when frankin-
cense was put into my hands by force, my voice
still testified that I took no part in the proceeding.
At length, when I fainted under the blows which
were heaped upon me, I was drawn forth by the feet
from among the crowd which surrounded the tribu-
nal ; and if the soldiers who removed me said that
I had sacrificed, it was without my knowledge and
consent."

" I wish," said the other who stood by him, " that
I -could clear myself of guilt as well as my brother
and companion. I was taken with him before the tri-
bunal, and refused to sacrifice ; but at length, over-
come by the blows of my tormentors, when frankin-
cense was put into my hands by a soldier who stood

CH. IV. THB CONFLAGRATION. 263

near, I allowed him to say that I had sacrificed, and
thus became, in some sort, partaker in their sins."

Lucius was much interested with a proceeding
which shewed how little the Christians had relaxed
the exactness of their rules even during the height of
persecution. The first of these two parties was ad-
mitted, he found, at once into communion ; but the
second was ordered to wait for six months as a peni-
tent in the exterior part of the church, before he
could participate in the full privileges of Christian
communion. Others there were who were sub-
jected to a longer trial. One person, who had given
up the sacred books, was deprived for ten years of
admission to the communion ; while some who had
yielded without necessity were sentenced to take
their places for three years with those who were
only hearers in the outer division of the church, then
to continue for seven years in the class of penitents,
and finally to worship for two years with the faithful
before they participated in the holy eucharist. 1

Lucius could not help expressing surprise, when
he and his friend were alone together, that the
strictness of the Christian rules should not be some-
what modified during the severity of persecution.
" It speaks great boldness in your rulers," he said,
" that they should not be afraid of disgusting persons,
at a moment when so little is to be gained by con-
tinuing in your ranks."

1 This was the. sentence of the Council of Nice in its 11th
canon.

264 ixjciu8.

" We consider that never was the time when more
was to be acquired," said the other. " The blessings
which the Church has to give are of a spiritual na-
ture — the peace of God in this world, everlasting joy
in the next. When were these more near at hand ?
And we have ever found that the Church has flou-
rished most when its discipline has been most rigid.
It is like those trees which shoot the stronger, the
more they feel the pruning-knife. For its strength
does not lie in the soft and careless, but in serious
and self-denying spirits. However," he added,
" these persons may obtain an abatement of their
time of penance, either through the obvious sincerity
of their own repentance, or the intercession of others.
In this place, moreover, the fire of persecution has
not yet begun to burn, perhaps never may ; indeed,
there is a town at no great distance, which, being en-
tirely secluded, and happening to be under a Chris-
tian magistrate, still enjoys the advantages of public
worship without fear or concealment."

Lucius often thought of this last statement, when,
on his return next day to his own quarters, he was
told that a new Roman deputy had arrived at the
seat of government, whose orders were, to see the
imperial commands respecting religion more strictly
obeyed. His own troops, and the other legions in
the neighbourhood, were to hold themselves ready
to aid the civil power. And now various acts of
cruelty were committed in his own immediate neigh-
bourhood, although the aid of the soldiery was not at

CH. IV. THB CONFLAGRATION. 265

first required. After a few weeks, however, he
received a summons which made him fear lest he
should be called upon to take part in them. He was
ordered to occupy a position near a town about forty
miles to the north-eastward of his quarters. Though
not as yet alienated from heathenism, he had- seen
enough of the Christians to resolve that nothing
should induce him to stain his hands with their
blood. Whatever loss or danger he might draw
upon himself, this was his firm resolve. Happily
another legion was ordered out before him ; so that
when he took part on the heights where he was
commanded to array his troops, he found that he was
only wanted to cover the retreat of the assailants.
He soon learnt that the neighbouring town was that
of which he had heard as enjoying the signal advan-
tage of a Christian magistrate, and the unrestricted
exercise of its public worship. The rocks upon
which he was standing so completely overlooked the
place, that it might almost have been used for mili-
tary operations, had not the difficulty of the ground
through which they had passed prevented the troops
from bringing with them their heavier engines. He
could see, therefore, every thing that passed within,
and observe that the church* which stood in the
centre of the town, was at this time open for worship.
Close before the walls of the place was ranged the
legion which had preceded his own, commanded by
the chief authorities of the province. They evi-
dently expected opposition, as the town was strong

A A

266 lucxus.

from its natural position, as well as from the union
which prevailed among its inhabitants. Being situ-
ated on the frontiers of the empire, it required forti-
fications for its security against the surrounding bar-
barians.

Considering the mountainous nature of the coun-
try, and the difficulty of obtaining provisions, to-
gether with the risk which might be apprehended,
supposing any of the adjoining tribes were to cut off
their retreat, Lucius thought it very likely that the
attack would be abandoned, if the besieged shewed
any resolution in their own defence.

With these expectations he looked on with con-
siderable hope that the attempt against the place
would be unsuccessful ; a hope which was increased
by information that the ground all round the city had
been surveyed, and found nearly inaccessible. " And
if the Christians are successful in this place," he said
to himself, " who knows that it may not encourage
them to self-defence in others ? They form the de-
cided majority in many parts of the country; and
whereas the empire is divided into various portions,
and ruled by persons who have little affection to-
wards one another, they are one body wherever
they are dispersed. There can be little doubt that
Constantius would be well pleased were Galerius to
be hampered in his proceedings by a Christian insur-
rection."

Such were Lucius's thoughts as he saw the troops
of the empire form under the walls, and a herald ad-

CH. IV. THE CONFLAGRATION. 267

vance to the gates of the city to demand admission in
the name of the emperor. But what was his sur-
prise and disappointment, when a person advanced
upon the walls, and proclaimed aloud, that though
the Christians of the place would rather forfeit their
lives than take part in any idolatrous service, yet
that, as their religion taught them to obey their tem-
poral prince, they should immediately open the gates
to the troops of the emperor. No sooner was this
done, than the soldiery rushed in. The streets and
houses they found deserted. All the city, it seemed,
was assembled in the large church which Lucius had
seen. The royal deputy entered it, and called upon
the governor and the chief citizens to take part, ac-
cording to the emperor's order, in a heathen sacrifice.
" You have opened your gates at the prince's sum-
mons; now open your hearts to his command."
" Here," said the chief man of the place, " we can-
not obey him. To Caesar we have rendered what
was Caesar's — we must give what is God's to God."
The whole assembly, in whose hearing the words
were uttered, repeated with one voice, "Amen." The
distant sound of their response could be heard as far
as the station where Lucius was anxiously waiting
the result.

The fervour and unity of the people only in-
flamed the anger of the deputy. " You must
take the consequence," he said. Rushing out of the
church, he posted a detachment of soldiers before
its doors. Lucius could see this step from the high

268 lucius.

ground which he occupied. What could it portend ?
He could not design the massacre of so large a body
of persons. But his intention was speedily apparent.
The doors of the church were no sooner shut, than
he ordered them to be nailed up securely on the out-
side. A body of soldiers then dispersed into the
adjoining houses. Lucius supposed that the property
of the Christians was to be given up to pillage ; and
he had a little difficulty in keeping back his own sol-
diers, who desired to take part in the proceeding
which was going on under their eyes. But soon he
saw a tall centurion, who had been the first to lead
die pillagers, return, carrying upon his shoulders the
door of an adjacent building. He was followed by
others with similar burdens. In a short time each
side of the church was piled up with a confused
heap of materials. It was a wooden structure, of
rough but solid construction; its small windows
somewhat high up in the walls. While all this was
going on without, the low murmur, as of persons en-
gaged in prayer, mixed with the occasional burst of
a chanted psalm, proceeded from the building, alter-
nating, like the sound of a waterfall on a stormy
night — the deep sound waxing more full and distinct
at each occasional hush of the tempest. But this
sound was speedily overmastered by one far more
awful to those who have ever heard it. The loud
crackling of flames arose from the wood and furniture
on the sides of the building, to which the tall centu-
rion had now set fire. A moment more, and the

CH. IV. THE CONFLAGRATION. 269

walls of the church had kindled. The view from
above into the town, which had hitherto been so
distinct, that Lucius could discern every step that
was taken, was now obscured by volumes of smoke,
which, meeting over the roof of the building, rose
up thence towards heaven, as though to bear witness
against the atrocity of the deed. Lucius looked
around him; and as, in the stillness of a clear evening,
he saw the vast mass of smoke ascend in a compact
column, till, reaching the level of the lofty mountains
among which the city was situate, it was gradually
dissipated by some currents of air which were mov-
ing in the upper sky, he thought, that if there were
any truth in what he had heard respecting the inter-
ference of superior beings, it must be in the preven-
tion of such a wickedness, thus publicly acted before
earth and heaven. He lived afterwards to see the
footsteps of God's providence in the signal fate of
those to whom these fearful scenes were to be attri-
buted ; but for this doomed city there was no earthly
relief, nor any present intercessor. The shrieks of
the miserable victims, as the fire gradually made its
way into the interior of the building, which even the
roaring of the flames could not drown, haunted him
for weeks to come. A flaw of wind, which opened a
passage through the smoky curtains which enveloped
the place, shewed him the fate of a few persons who
had forced their way through the windows of the
building, to perish by the weapons of the surround-
ing soldiery, or be thrown back by them into the
a a %

270 Lucius.

flames. Lucius had hid his face, when he was re-
called by a dull and heavy sound, as the rafters of
the roof fell in together. There was one cry of deep
but smothered agony, and then all was still, save that
a vast gush of fire rose up for a moment with more
than its usual intensity. Then came the shout of the
victors, as their work of wrath was over, and the hu-
man sacrifice complete. 1

1 This occurrence is mentioned by two contemporary his-
torians, Ensebius and Lactantius.

" At that time," says the first, " soldiers surrounded a city
in Fhrygia, and burnt the inhabitants, men, women, and child-
ren, while they called upon Christ the supreme God. For the
whole inhabitants of the city, the treasurer, and governor, and
magistrates, refused to obey those who ordered them to sacri-
fice to idols." viii. 11.

Lactantius says, that the governor of Phrygia " burnt the
people, with their place of assembling." — Ins. Div. v. 11.

CHAPTER V.

Why rather, Sleep, liestthou in smoky cribs,

Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,

And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,—

Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,

Under the canopies of costly state,

And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody ?

Shakespeare.

Lucius's first step, when he returned to quarters,
was to solicit leave of absence, with a view of mak-
ing a visit to Nicomedia. His purpose was to re-
sign his command, even though he forfeited the fa-
vour of Constantine, lest he should be called upon,
in the exercise of his duty, to take part in such
scenes as he had just witnessed. After two years
of absence, therefore, he was once more walking the
streets of Nicomedia. It was towards the conclusion
of April. When he had ascertained that Constantine
was not in the city, but was expected to arrive there
the next day, he walked forth to see what changes had
taken place since his last visit to the capital. He passed
the house of Anthimus and the site of his church —
where the very buildings which he remembered had

272 lucius.

been succeeded by new edifices — and then proceeded
to the square which lay in front of the palace. As he
was walking there, he heard his name pronounced,
and had the pleasure of greeting his old comrade
Gallus. " You find me," said Gallus, " better off in
the world than when you went away. I had. friends
in the palace who more than made up for the loss of
my poor master Dorotheus. If you are willing to
share my hospitality again, I can make you more
comfortable than I did."

" And without the sight either of fire or torture,
I hope," said the other.

" Don't speak of such things," said Gallus ; " to
those who have witnessed what I have, they are too
painful to remember."

Lucius readily accepted the invitation, which his
old comrade gave in a very friendly manner ; and a
few minutes found him again in the palace of the
Caesars. The two companions told one another all
that had passed since their last meeting. The circum-
stances in which they had then been placed had given
them great confidence in one another ; and Lucius
did not hesitate to mention why he had come to the
capital, and to detail the fearful scenes he had wit-
nessed. Gallus had as painful a story to unfold in
the dreadful tortures to which Dorotheus and the
other Christian officers of the palace had been sub-
jected. The cruelties which he had witnessed had
evidently given him the greatest disgust of Galerius,
to whose instrumentality he referred them ; and he

CH. V. THB FLIGHT. 273

looked upon Constantine as the only hope of better
things in the imperial family. The prospect of his
succession to the crown, if Dioclesian, who had lately
been ill, should abandon the sceptre, was discussed
between them;

" Dioclesian has always shewn Constantine much
favour," said Lucius, " and his Lather Constantius
is the elder of the Caesars."

" I have but one fear," replied the other; " lest
Galerius, who is present, should have such influence
with the emperor as to defeat Constantine' s claims.
You know how constantly Galerius has sought his
destruction. It was, no doubt, with this view that
he urged him into that battle with a lion, out of
which he got so marvellously."

Lucius now told his friend, what he had never com-
municated to any one, the part he had himself taken
in this transaction, and how it had influenced his
fortunes.

" I have a great mind," said Gallus, " to be
equally communicative to you. I think I could guess
what is going on at this very time in respect to the
imperial succession."

Lucius pressed him to communicate what he
knew.

" You may remember," said Gallus, " those se-
cret conferences which the emperor had, the winter
before the persecution of the Christians began ; and if
you have not forgotten a certain secret passage which
ran by the emperor's apartments, you may know

274 Lucius.

how we came to divine something of their purport
Now similar consultations are a -foot at present;
and the emperor's resignation I take to be their
design."

" You would greatly further the interests of
Constantine," said Lucius, " if you would use the
opportunity you possess to give him notice of any
plots which may be laid against him/'

Gallus's own inclinations were so much on Con-
stantine's side, that he needed little pressing to de-
cide him to take part directly in his favour.

" Why should we not learn at once what is pass-
ing ?" said Lucius.

" You must walk cautiously," said Gallus ; 4I the
sword of Damocles is over your head." Thus speak-
ing, he led the way to the very passage through
which he had once before guided Lucius, when he
left the palace. It was a vacancy behind the wall of
the emperor's apartments, originally left with a view
of leading to another chamber, but now accessible
only through a hole which opened into another room,
in which the emperor occasionally slept This hole
had been carefully stopped with a panel by some one
who perceived the use which might be made of the
passage, and a curtain hanging in front effectually
concealed the place from observation* The passage
led, at the other end, to the secret door by which
Lucius had formerly escaped ; but as this door opened
only from within, the two friends were obliged to
enter the passage from the bed-room. Yet as Gal-

CH. V. THE FLIGHT. 275

lus's office often led him there, they passed unchal-
lenged ; and thus they heard part of a conference,
which, as it is reported by a contemporary historian, 1
must ere long have found its way to the public. The
Caesar Galerius was pressing his father-in-law, Dio-
clesian, to resign the empire, alleging that he was
weary of his fifteen years' service in Illyricum and
against the barbarians of the Danube, and thought it
time that he should rise to the higher title of Au-
gustus. It was understood that Maximian, who,
with Dioclesian, had hitherto borne this higher title,
was ready also to resign. Constantius and Galerius
would then succeed their two fathers-in-law in the
title of Augustus, and two new Caesars must be ap-
pointed.

" Well," said Dioclesian, " let it be ; but, at all
events, new Caesars must be chosen according to the
common opinion of all of us."

Galerius. " What is the use of taking opinions,
when the two others must needs acquiesce in what
we shall have done ?"

Maximian's son, Maxentius, was of so ferocious
a nature, that neither his relations nor the public de-
sired his elevation ; of him, therefore, there was no
thought : but Dioclesian immediately mentioned Con-
stantine, as being popular not only with the soldiers
and people, but with himself. Galerius, however,
cut him short. " He is not worthy. Even as a
1 Lactantius de M. P. § 18.

276 lucius.

private man, he despised me ; what will he do if he
comes to he emperor ? "

" And yet," said Dioclesian, " he is amiable ;
and would govern so as to he considered even better
and more amiable than his father."

" The consequence would be," said Galerius,
" that he would thwart all my wishes."

Dioclesian. " Whom would you have, then ? "

" Severus," said the other.

Dioclesian, " What! that drunken fool, who
makes night into day, and day into night?"

Galerius. " He is a fit man, and his liberality
has gained the soldiers. I have already sent him to
Maximian, to be declared his successor."

Dioclesian. " Well, whom would you name for
the second ?"

" Daia," said Galerius, — referring to a half-
barbarian youth, whom he had lately raised from
the situation of a herdsman to be a tribune in the
army, and to whom he had given the name of Maxi-
min.

" Who is he?" said Dioclesian.

" He is my relation," replied the other.

Dioclesian (with a sigh). " You don't give me
fit men to undertake the care of the common-
wealth."

Galerius. " I have made good proof of them."

Dioclesian. " The loss will be mainly yours, on
whom the care of the government will chiefly fall.

CH. V. THK FLIGHT. 277

I have taken pains, so long as I could hold it, for the
safety of the state. If any reverse befalls it, the fault
will not be mine."

After hearing this singular conference, Lucius
was doubly anxious to see Constantine, and to ex-
plain to him the machinations of his enemies. But
the prince was not to be found till, towards the mid-
dle of the next day, Lucius saw him at a public as-
sembly, to which the soldiery of all the legions in the
neighbourhood were summoned. Constantine, who
had been into the country, returned just in time to
attend it. The place of meeting was near a lofty
column, crowned with a statue of Jupiter, which had
been erected as a memorial that in an elevated ros-
trum in that very place Galerius himself had first
been presented to the soldiery in his imperial dress.
The rumour spread that Dioclesian would that day
take a step, which he was known to have been medi-
tating, and resign a sceptre which was become too
burdensome for his declining years. All looked to
Constantine as his successor. The soldiers were
expressing their hopes of his elevation, and Lucius
was in vain endeavouring to make his way up to
him, when a sudden call to silence announced the
appearance of the aged emperor. Ascending the
rostrum, he said, with tears, that his broken health
required rest ; that he must now commit the sceptre
to fhmer hands, and appoint fresh Caesars. At
this* point, every one's expectation was raised to the
utmost pitch. What was the astonishment of all

B B

278 lucius.

who were present, with the exception of Lucius, who
knew the resolve which had been taken, when he
declared that Severn s and Maximin were Caesars.
Severus was well known ; but as for Maximin, men
were at a loss to know who was meant by him.
Some supposed that Constantine, whose father was
Maximian's son-in-law, had received that name. But
Constantine, who was on the rostrum, near the em-
peror, stood mute; while Galerius, reaching forth his
hand, drew Daia from behind him, and, to the amaze-
ment of all, he was invested with the royal pur-
ple. People began to ask who he was, and whence
came he. But so sudden was the blow, that no voice
was raised in opposition. Meanwhile Dioclesian
descended from the rostrum, well satis6ed, as it
seemed, with his own escape from the cares of office;
and saying that he might now return to his original
name of Diodes* he left the capital for the town of
Salona, in his native Illyria.

But though Lucius's information had not enabled
Constantine to take any steps for averting the injury
which was thus done him, yet it was not without its
value. From perceiving the full extent of Galerius's
hostility, he learnt that his safety could only be se-
cured by his departure from the imperial court. Till
this could be effected, he begged Lucius to continue
at his quarters in the palace, where Gallus willingly
allowed him to remain.

But Constantine's course was not so easy as
might be expected. When he mentioned to Galerius,

CH. V. THE FLIGHT. 279

that he wished to visit his father Constantius, the
emperor put him off by various pretexts. Constan-
tius, whose health had now begun to fail, wrote to
the emperor to beg that his son might be sent to him.
Still Galerius refused. And as farther accounts in-
dicated that Constantius's death might ere long be
expected, it became manifest that he was kept in
order that he might be deprived of any share of
his inheritance, and be put to death so soon as his
father's decease might free Galerius from fear of
retaliation.

And now all the attempts which Galerius had
before made for his destruction came to his recol-
lection. His only hope lay in (light. But how to
effect this was the difficulty. No one might leave
Nicomedia without the emperor's permission ; and
what chance was there of distancing his pursuers,
when nearly a thousand miles were to be passed
before he entered his father's province? On this
subject Constantine had many conferences with Lu-
cius, and with Gallus, who had now been introduced
to the prince's confidence. But before any steps
could be taken, more pressing letters arrived from
Constantius ; and the emperor, fearful lest his col-
league should take 'some strong steps upon his re-
fusal, gave his consent to allow the young prince to
depart. The seventh day from that time was fixed ;
as some time, it was said, was needful to make pre-
paration for his journey. The preceding evening

280 lucius.

arrived : Lucius, who was to attend him, had made
every preparation ; the emperor's order for his de-
parture was prepared and signed; and all difficulty
seemed over. But when Constantine applied next
morning for the permission to depart, Galerius had
torn it. " You must not go," he said, " to-day ;"
and assigning some frivolous reason for delay, he
would have him wait three days longer. Then also
he had some further pretext, till the young prince,
in despair, saw that there was a fixed design to
detain him till his father's death should render his
journey useless.

With this feeling he asked Gallus, the next time
that Galerius had fixed a day for his going, whe-
ther it would not be possible to obtain the license by
stealth from the emperor's cabinet, and to set off
secretly during the night. Galerius, with a view of
keeping up appearances, was accustomed to sign the
pass which would enable him to leave the city ; but
he uniformly destroyed it so soon as the day arrived.
Gallus promised to acquaint himself where the docu-
ment was kept ; and in the meantime Constantine,
who had determined to make the attempt, ordered
that horses should be in readiness for himself and
Lucius on the European shore of the Propontis.
Every thing, however, must depend on the possi-
bility of obtaining the emperor's license, without
which an attempt to leave the city would produce
an immediate pursuit, which must of course be fatal.

CH. V. THB FLIGHT. 281

Could he gain but twelve hours' start, Constantine
thought that he might reach the European shore in
safety ; and that done, he must trust to the speed of
the horses which he had provided, and which would
carry him, he expected, into the wilder parts of
Thrace : once there, the open country would enable
him to escape observation.

And now the day of enterprise arrived. Con-
stantine was to leave the palace early in the evening,
and, after waiting at a house in the town, was to meet
his party at the western extremity of the palace;
while Lucius was to execute a scheme which his
friend had devised for obtaining the necessary pass.
It was matter both of difficulty and danger. Gallus
had ascertained that the pass had always been kept
in a small cabinet, accessible only through the em-
peror's bedroom ; but this bedroom was the very
apartment in which terminated the secret passage
before described. If Lucius could conceal himself
in that passage, he might then enter the emperor's
chamber, although its doors were both watched and
bolted, and afterwards leave the palace by the secret
exit, with which he was already acquainted.

The first difficulty was to hide Lucius in the secret
passage. Gallus, who had access to the emperor's
bedroom, concealed his friend in a cupboard which lay
near it, and then, watching his opportunity, introduced
him while the whole household were at their midday
meal. Thus secreted, he must now trust to himself.
b b 2

282 lucius.

After watching the whole evening, he was assured,
by the increasing silence, — for no light reached him,
— that the night was coming on. Presently he could
hear the emperor's chamberlains approach. They
searched the bedroom, to see that no one was con-
cealed there, and the moveable panel, near which
Lucius was sitting, nearly fell out, as one of them
struck the curtain before it with his wand, to make
sure that no one was hiding behind it. And now
came the emperor. He bade his domestics leave
him undisturbed till late in the morning; adding, " If
Constantine applies for his license to depart, he must
wait my rising." A light was left burning in his
room, by which Lucius, who knew exactly where
the cabinet stood, saw that he should be able to
approach it. When he thought, therefore, that the
emperor might be asleep, he removed the panel.
This was done without any noise ; for he had already
spread a curtain on the floor, lest the sound made by
his laying it down should be perceptible. Then re-
moving the curtain before him, he. crept through the
opening. And now he stood up by the bed; for
the passage opened close to it. The light enabled him
distinctly to survey the well-known features of the
sleeper. There was his vast frame, rendered more
gross by habitual intemperance — a countenance in
which a rough intellect was not wanting, but where
all traces of that good humour which might have
been expected to accompany his boisterous nature

CH. V. THE FLIGHT. 283

were effaced by habitual self-indulgence. Those
eyes were closed which had so often glared with
satisfaction on the agonies of his fellow-creatures.
The mouth was open in his heavy sleep, from which
had proceeded the doom of thousands. Nature
seemed now to revenge her outraged laws ; for he
was evidently contending in feverish dreams with
those pangs of remorse with which, in the commission
of crimes, he seemed never to be troubled. Lucius's
hand instinctively grasped the emperor's dagger,
which lay beside him, and he felt a strong tempt-
ation to free the world of the tyrant who made it
unhappy. But the lessons which he had learnt
among the Christians recurred to his thoughts. Al-
ready had he so far adopted their opinions, that he
was resolved to apply on the first opportunity for
admission among the number of catechumens; and
he remembered that the unlawfulness of assassination
had been among the first points he had heard from
them. Laying down, therefore, the emperor's dag-
ger, he crept on his hands and knees across the
chamber, so that, even if the sleeper awoke, he
would be concealed from his sight. It was well he
did so. Galerius, who had already started repeatedly
from his sleep, seemed to detect the slight vibration
which his movements communicated to the floor of
the apartment, and sat up in his bed. But the
light, which was near the emperor's couch, did not
enable him to see Lucius, who got safely into the

284 lucius.

cabinet. He found the license of departure as he
expected ; and after waiting for a time returned into
the bedroom. But the emperor was still awake.
There he lay, his large savage eyes glaring in the
light of the lamp, which was burning near him. Lu-
cius, who was standing behind a curtain near the
door of the cabinet, was compelled to wait in per-
fect stillness, feeling that the least noise on his part
would consign him to instant torture and death. Se-
veral times was he tempted to regret that he had
omitted the opportunity of securing his return, which
the dagger of the emperor afforded him. Sometimes
he felt inclined to rush on the monster, and even
now to attempt his destruction. The minutes which
he had to wait seemed the longest which in his whole
life he had ever known : by such a torture as this, he
thought, an eternity might be coined out of a single
hour. Every second seemed to incr^gJhe^ danger.
After the steps which had been taken, it was impos-
sible to go back in the design. Yet Constantine, he
feared, would despair of his appearance, and perhaps
return to the palace, to escape suspicion. And then
all the hopes which he had cherished, and which
seemed likely to be cut off, chased one another
through his mind; — his distant home — his walks
on the free hills of his happy country — his mother's
kiss — his father's blessing — the great truths of
which he had obscurely heard, and which he was
now ready to believe would so mightily conduce to

CH. V. THE FLIGHT. 285

his happiness. His mind, wearied with such thoughts
began at length to recoil upon the overtasked powers of
his body. He had been watching painfully ever since
noon — his very excitement had fatigued him : the
hot atmosphere of the room increased his lassitude.
That sleep, which the emperor vainly courted, seemed
to drop upon him its Lethsean dews. Yet if he moved,
all was lost. In this painful struggle did he stand
for two hours. But at length, O happiness, — the
glaring eye, which he watched as the weary shep-
herd does the orb of day, began to grow dim. And
now its pent-house gradually descended. Galerius
slept. With tenfold caution the young Briton crept
again across the apartment ; and not till he replaced
the panel which concealed his passage, did the
sleeper give signs of being disturbed. That sound
startled him. He rose, and called out. But Lucius was
now in safety. As nothing was to be seen, the alarm
subsided. After waiting a few minutes, to prevent
its recurrence, he trod safely, yet gently, along the
secret passage ; and the hidden door once more let
him forth into the streets of Nicomedia. A few
paces from the place of meeting he found Constan-
tine, almost as anxious as himself. A hasty recog-
nition assured them that all was right.

The danger was now over. Long before the em-
peror arose on the following day, they were out of
the reach of pursuit. What afterwards happened,
— their speedy passage across Thrace, — their safe

286

LUCIUS.

arrival in Gaul, — the joy with which Constantius re-
ceived his son at Boulogne, — his subsequent ele-
vation to the imperial throne at York, is matter
of public history. Such was the last flight of Con-
stantine.

Ruins of Dioclesiaa'a Villa at Salona.

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